My Shadow
by nicoleb
Summary: Songi was the closest thing to a family Gala ever had, and the former Master Teacher just can't bring himself to abandon him, even after all he's done. The path to forgiveness and redemption is long: Promises are made, tears are shed, and the two soon find themselves feeling things they're not sure they're ready to face. Gala/Songi; slash; post-story; non-canon. Rating may change.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey there! I'll make this short, since I really don't have that much to say. I discovered Legend of Legaia a few months ago, and I almost instantly became a huge fan. It's severely underrated, though at least those few who know about it do generally acknowledge it as a great game. Even without Songi, the game would be amazing, but with him... Well, it kicks ass. :D As a result, I don't know how many people will actually read, much less review, this fic, but I do plan to finish it, even if it takes me years. If you enjoy the story, please drop me a review and let me know. It'll really make me happy. :)**

**Warnings: Gala/Songi; slash; non-canon; very, VERY Songi-fangirl author. Rating may change.  
**

_Chapter 1_

Songi had been sleeping ever since Gala had left, Zalan had said. The use of the Horn Ra-Seru and Spoon Seru had kept him from dying, and the several Fury Boosts Zalan had regularly administered had helped to restore something of the some two and a half litres of blood Songi had lost, but even so it wasn't looking good.

Songi's skin, though no longer the deathly grey it had been in the Seru-kai, was still nowhere near the right color; it was closer to pasty white than anything else, and despite Zalan's constant use of wet wash cloths, it was hideously clammy, too. His hair wasn't much better, looking as though someone had thrown several full glasses of water over it. Its usual prominent spiked style was hardly recognizable, and Songi's breathing seemed incredibly forced.

"Thank you so much for your help, Zalan," Gala said politely to the jeweller. He was trying to fight the panic growing quietly but unmistakably in his chest. "I'll take over now. Again, I'm very sorry I had to trouble you with all this."

Gala moved forward to take the wash cloth, and though Zalan handed it willingly to him, he looked uncertain.

"Are you sure, Master Gala?" he asked as the teen stepped forward and knelt beside him and Songi. "You look exhausted, and it's really no trouble-"

"No, it's fine," Gala said. He was very happy that news of Juggernaut and its defeat hadn't yet reached Jeremi or the rest of the Sebucus Islands. He didn't think he could face the endless gratitude and praise he'd been met with in Rim Elm again right now.

Zalan hesitated for a moment longer before nodding and getting to his feet.

"Very well, Master Gala. But if he wakes up, please inform me immediately."

"Yes, sir," Gala said. He bowed as best he could from his limited position as the man left the room.

Zalan had been very generous, Gala didn't deny that. When he'd first appeared at his porch after teleporting to Jeremi on a Door of Wind, just barely managing to support the unconscious and heavily bleeding Songi on his powerful shoulders, Zalan hadn't wasted a second with questions. He'd sprung forward to take some of Songi's weight and help Gala carry him into the house, all the while calling for his son, Pepe, to grab the medicine kit.

Then, ten minutes later, when Songi was lying on an ankle-high bed with the gaping, still-bleeding gash on his torso dressed and bandaged, Zalan hadn't argued at all when Gala had announced that he had to leave and wasn't sure how long it would be until he came back. He'd neglected to mention that he might never come back if Juggernaut finished him, but even then Gala had a feeling that Zalan still wouldn't have minded.

But still, Gala wanted to be the one to watch Songi. It wasn't that he didn't trust Zalan. He didn't trust _Songi_. Even when he was barely alive, the guy could be incredibly unpredictable, and Gala didn't want to risk anything. After all the things the bastard had done, Gala didn't deny for a second that he'd harm people of Jeremi if he felt so inclined.

Once he was alone, Gala looked down at his former best friend. He swallowed a painful lump in his throat as he thought about everything that had led to this: Songi betraying and attacking the Biron Monastery, obtaining his own Ra-Seru and joining a group of evildoers intent on using the evil Mist to take over Legaia. Songi taking control of the horrible Sim-Seru Juggernaut, eventually using its powers to engulf Rim Elm before fleeing to and attempting to take over the Seru-kai and make himself a god. Then...

XxXxXxX

Songi laughed coldly as the Sim Ra-Seru Jedo separated from his arm before flickering and disappearing altogether. Though covered in bruises and cuts from their fight and panting hard, he grinned at Gala, as though the whole thing were nothing more than a huge joke.

"Look at me, Gala! How pitiful I am! Even with the power of the Ra-Seru, I couldn't... couldn't defeat..."

He broke off with an agonized scream that seemed to echo all throughout the godly dimension. He fell to the ground, writhing and spasming, still screaming at the top of his lungs. Gala, despite everything, found himself rushing to his former best friend's side in an instant.

"Songi, what's wrong?!"

He reached out and grabbed the older man's shoulder, shaking it in a combination of dread and concern. He was dimly aware of Vahn and Noa coming up beside him and even of Noa leaning down next to him, but right then he had eyes only for Songi.

"My whole body hurts! I can't take it!" Songi rasped in between screams. His skin was beginning to turn a stone-grey color, and his whole body was flickering, much like the Ra-Seru he'd just been separated from. Gala's rising dread was only magnified when Vahn and Noa's Ra-Seru, Meta and Terra, spoke.

"The Seru-kai is a world intolerant of the presence of ordinary human beings."

"Now that he has lost his Seru, Songi will return to nothingness."

"Gala!" Songi cried, tears coming to his eyes as his body briefly disintegrated into shards before reforming. "The pain is unbearable! You're my friend... Help me!"

Gala gulped. Songi hadn't called him his friend in literally years. He must've been extremely desperate to fall back on that now.

"Ozma, can't we do something for him?"

Gala didn't even feel the words enter his brain or leave his mouth, nor did he hear Ozma's reply. Songi was holding onto the arm he had on his shoulder like grim death, as though he were a drowning man clutching at a floating piece of debris.

As Songi screamed again and Noa drew back, looking mortified, Gala felt that his heart would break. He didn't think of it then, in his panic, but Songi was the closest thing to a family he'd ever had. They'd been raised together since they were kids. They'd practically been brothers.

"Curse all you Seru! Is this all your powers can do?!" Songi shouted in a near delirium. Just as furiously as he'd been gripping it, he pushed Gala's hand away, his blue eyes mixed with real hatred behind all the terror and pain. "Gala... You... You're next!"

Gala's hand was knocked back hard into Vahn's right knee directly behind him. That was when Gala thought of what he did. It was a long shot, but maybe, just _maybe_...

The former Biron Monastery monk jumped to his feet, turned to Vahn, and all but grabbed the boy by the collar.

"Vahn! Vahn, give me that Light Talisman, now!"

Vahn blinked in confusion for a moment before understanding dawned on his face, and he wrenched the talisman from around his index finger and handed it to his senior. Gripping the powerful ring for all it was worth, Gala threw himself back down beside Songi and, grabbing one of his flailing, grey arms, forced it onto one of the red-head's fingers.

Instantly, Songi's body stopped flickering and de-forming, and his writhing and thrashing stilled considerably, but he was still clearly in a great deal of pain. Now that his body was stable again, Gala noticed a huge, deep gash running along Songi's entire torso. It was bleeding uncontrollably, and one didn't have to be a doctor to know that such a wound, if not treated quickly, could prove to be fatal.

Songi was breathing hard, his eyes squeezed shut. He wasn't flailing around anymore, but he was twitching and shuddering every few seconds. Gala didn't know if he was even conscious or not.

"Terra, what's wrong?" Noa asked her Ra-Seru, clutching a hand to her chest in order to better communicate with her partner.

"It's no use, Noa!" Terra said. It was hard to tell with a Seru, but there was definitely a clear note of panic in Terra's voice. "The Great Genesis Tree is too weak to be revived!"

"What? You mean the Great Genesis Tree is going to die?!" Vahn said as Noa got to her feet.

Gala stayed kneeling by Songi, but he turned his attention towards the Genesis Tree. No sooner had he done so did a huge, ground-shaking earthquake erupt through the Seru-kai, throwing Noa and Vahn off-balance. Above them, the sky grew rapidly dark and began to crackle with ominous lightning. Vahn and Noa struggled to their feet, calling out to their Ra-Seru in panic. There was no answer. For the first time, Gala half-forgot Songi and stood up also.

"The Ra-Seru are growing weaker, too! The Great Genesis Tree is almost dead!" He clenched his fists in helpless frustration and fear.

_No! Are our lives to expire with the Seru-kai?!_

Noa shook her head fiercely and faced the Great Genesis Tree again, placing her hand on her heart and closing her eyes.

"Vahn, Gala! Let's pray! Let's pray to the Great Genesis Tree!"

Vahn and Gala didn't say anything but rushed to join the wild girl, holding their chests and closing their eyes also.

"Our faith is all we have left," Gala said quietly, before gritting his teeth and putting everything he had into his prayers.

**More to come soon, for the possible one or two people who might actually be reading this. XD**


	2. Chapter 2

**Yay! Here's chapter 2! Thank you so much for the reviews, Merel (XD) and Hikari No Aijou! They really make me want to keep writing! :) This next chapter actually has some dialogue pulled directly from the game. :O It's mostly just back-story and such, told in past participle-narration. The next chapter will have some Gala and Songi-interaction though, so look forward to that! (Although it won't get romantic until many, many chapters. ;D)**

**Edit: Thanks to Hikari No Aijou for reminding me that Biron is a god and NOT a goddess. XD I really should've double-checked the Legaia-wiki before I published this chapter. -_-**

_Chapter 2_

About five minutes later, after the prophet Hari had appeared and offered to use his powers to help them, Gala knelt back by Songi and half-lifted, half-dragged him to his feet. Even near death, the man was incredibly heavy. Vahn, after the briefest of hesitations, rushed to Gala's side and wrapped one of Songi's limp arms around his own shoulders. Despite the fact that Songi had attacked and possibly destroyed everyone Vahn loved, the young boy was just too kind-hearted to simply stand by and leave him to die in the Seru-kai. Noa rushed to join them, and together the three heroes raised their Ra-Seru arms and rose into the sky, Songi in the middle of them.

A few seconds later, they were standing on top of a tall, partially hollow mountain.

"What? Is this... Mt. Rikuroa?" Noa asked, looking around. Vahn hurriedly extricated himself from Songi and moved to stand beside her.

"Rim Elm's Genesis Tree is dead," he said, throwing a cold glance over his shoulder at the unconscious man Gala was now struggling to support by himself. "So we came here. But we have to get back to Rim Elm and defeat Juggernaut."

Gala swallowed. He knew what he was about to say would not be well-received, but he forced himself to speak.

"I have to get Songi somewhere where he can have his wounds tended to," he said. "I think Zalan in Jeremi can help. I'll just take a Door of Wind there, drop him off, and meet you guys outside Rim Elm straight after."

"I guess we can't just let him die," Noa said, looking at their enemy with skepticism. "But what are we going to do if he tries anything again?"

"Kill him," Vahn said, his eyes narrowing. The harsh, loathing tone his voice had adopted was so unlike him, it made Gala's skin prickle. "To be honest, it's taking everything I have not to kill the bastard now. If Father, Nene, Mei and everyone else... I-If they don't..." He swallowed, turning away.

Gala looked down. He well understood Vahn's anger, even if it was horribly out of character. He might've been angry himself, if he wasn't so sick with worry instead. He didn't know what he'd do if the people of Rim Elm went the same way as the people of Conkram, as Noa's parents. More than anyone there, he thought about Maya. Maya, who had been like a mother to him and Songi for over half their lives.

Gala's gaze fell on Songi's unconscious form, and he found himself struggling to hold back tears. Why had Songi done what he did, to Maya of all people? _How_ could he have done it?

"He'll be sorry. He really will be," Vahn concluded lamely after a moment, but most of the coldness had gone out of his tone as quickly as it had come, and now he really only sounded tired and afraid.

Gala tried not to think as he took out a Door of Wind and prepared to activate it. Right then, it was too hard to think about anything except just how hard and dangerous the upcoming battle with Juggernaut was going to be...

XxXxXxX

Of course, they _had_ beaten Juggernaut, as well as Cort, who had fused with the evil Sim-Seru. And miraculously, everyone in Rim Elm had been spared, thanks to Vahn, Noa and Gala's partner Ra-Seru. Maya, Mei, Vahn's family, the Biron monk Tetsu... Everyone was safe. Even Cort, in a way. The powers of the Ra-Seru had restored energy and life to all in Rim Elm; the sickly or crippled had become well again, the older folk had seemed to grow a little younger, and Cort, Noa's older brother and the creator of the Mist, had been reborn as a baby.

Noa had sworn to take care of the newly born Cort, even though she was still just a child. She'd slipped away with Cort early the morning after Juggernaut had been destroyed, telling Gala that she was heading to Buma to see Cara and Grantes. She'd wanted to get away before Cort's presence upset the villagers but had assured him that she'd see him and Vahn again soon. She'd been very quiet and somber, not like her old, cheery, bouncy self at all. Clearly she was still very saddened by her parents' deaths, not to mention her sudden parting with Terra, who'd been her only companion for most of Noa's twelve years.

Of course, Gala could relate to the pain of losing his parents and Ra-Seru all too well, but he'd made up his mind not to think about Ozma right then. All it would do was upset him more, and he couldn't afford that at this point.

"If you ever need anything, Noa, just come and see me at the monastery," Gala had said to Noa when they'd parted, giving the young girl a one-armed hug. He would've hugged her more openly, even though such things weren't usually his style, but he hadn't wanted to disturb the sleeping Cort in his friend's arms.

After all, he couldn't hate an innocent baby, no matter how much grief he had caused in his past life. Noa would see to it that the new baby got a second, better chance at life, he was sure of it. Noa hadn't asked what Gala planned to do about Songi, perhaps because she'd known he didn't know himself yet.

Gala had left Rim Elm shortly after Noa. Vahn had still been deeply asleep, and though his younger sister, Nene, had offered to wake him, Gala had told her not to worry about it. Vahn had earned a nice sleep-in for once, after all they'd been through. Noa and Gala probably would've slept longer too, if they hadn't had so much on their minds.

Before he'd left Rim Elm, Gala had gone to say one final goodbye to Maya, assuring her that he'd be back to see her soon, once...

XxXxXxX

"Once Songi's..." Gala said, then stopped, hesitating.

In truth, he had no idea if his old friend would live or die. He'd already taken back the Light Talisman that had saved Songi's life, partly because he'd been worried about leaving a thing that could potentially summon the remains of a powerful Light Ra-Seru with such a person, and partly because it hadn't really been helping anymore.

No amount of Seru magic could help Songi now; Gala had already tried. Before leaving to fight Juggernaut, he'd tried summoning all the Light-based Seru he had, including Horn, and using their powerful healing spells on Songi's terrible wound. Zalan had been quite uncomfortable with this, since after his ordeals with Seru, he wasn't overly fond of them, but he hadn't said anything, and for that Gala had been very grateful.

The declining power of the Seru-kai, even when the prophet Hari had used the last of his great strength to keep the world alive for them, had quickly taken its toll, making all Seru's spells almost useless. The Light Seru, even Horn, had had little effect. They'd been able to keep Songi from dying - for now - but they hadn't been able to perform the miracles the former Master Teacher had come to expect from them. Just as he, Vahn and Noa had been warned, the Age of the Seru was quickly coming to an end, partly thanks to Songi's actions.

"Songi will be all right, won't he, Gala?" Maya said, her voice full of concern. "I mean, you said he was alive and being tended to, so he should..."

Despite the dire situation, Gala almost felt like smiling. Typical Maya, always thinking of them. Practically the first thing she'd done upon being freed from Juggernaut, apart from making sure her daughter, Mei, was unharmed, was turn to Gala and demand to know if Songi was all right. Even after all he'd done. Of course, Maya didn't think it was his fault at all. She was too kind to think like that.

"I don't know," Gala admitted after a short pause.

He didn't want to lie to Maya, and she probably wouldn't believe him if he tried. She was pretty quick-witted most of the time. Mei, standing next to her mother and not nearly as forgiving as her, spoke up.

"He's an evil person," she said coldly. "Why do you care what happens to him?"

Gala kept quiet, unable to answer. Though he hadn't known her very long, it was fairly obvious to him that Mei was a very sweet, caring person - much like her mother - but it seemed even she had her limits. Not that he could blame her. Her words made a lot of sense. In fact, all the things Songi had done made the label 'an evil person' seem pretty tame.

As for why he and Maya should care about him, Gala wasn't sure about that, either. He supposed they were caring about the _old_ Songi, the one that had been blotted out so completely - either by greed, the Sim Ra-Seru, or both.

"Songi was competitive and vain, but he was a good child - gentle and obedient," Maya said sharply to her daughter. "I don't know much about the Seru, but I know that... the Mist and the Seru bring out the meanness and weakness in human nature."

Maya stopped, biting her lip. Gala lowered his gaze. He didn't feel comfortable with replying. He knew Maya was right, at least about the first part. Songi _had_ been a good person when he'd been younger. He'd always been sarcastic, arrogant and lazy, prone to making unkind and unfunny jokes at other people's expenses, but he'd been a caring, loyal friend to Gala, always the first to jump to his defense when they were in danger or when he thought someone was picking on him. The word 'gentle' wasn't as fitting for him, but Gala thought he knew what Maya was referring to.

Just over ten years ago, Gala and Songi had both lost their families to a sudden and violent Seru attack that had left them as the only survivors in their village. They'd been hidden away in their houses at the time, as they'd been taught to do in such circumstances ever since the Mist had first appeared in the kingdom only months before. Master Zopu, the leader of a nearby monastery devoted to the god Biron, had found them and taken them both in, along with several others from neighboring establishments who had also suffered as a result of the Mist.

There, Master Zopu had begun teaching them the ways of the Biron martial arts. Despite everything else, the two boys had taken to their new strict regime well. Gala had found comfort in the powerful Biron god, feeling somehow that his strong, sacred gaze was now watching over him. Songi, even before being brought the the monastery, had known something about fighting. His father had taught him, he'd told Gala once when he'd asked. He hadn't appeared to like talking about his parents any more than Gala had, but from what little he had told him, his mother seemed to have died from an illness when he was very young, leaving his father to raise him alone. His father had clearly enjoyed studying martial arts and teaching his son everything he could, and Gala had gotten the impression that Songi had thought the world of him.

Even as he'd been caught up in his own terrible grief, Gala had noticed the way the older boy had moped around and refused to talk to others after they'd been taken in by the monks. He'd never been that quiet again, and it had lasted several weeks. Maya, Master Zopu and all the others in the monastery had been nothing but kind to the newcomers, and Gala had done his best to be grateful, even though the shock of losing his parents had left him too miserable to do much. Songi had made no effort to be grateful and had pushed away anyone who tried to get close to him. He'd eventually opened up slightly to Gala, if only because he'd been the only other boy in the monastery his age, and Gala, unlike the others, had never tried to pretend to understand him.

Maybe the two boys had drawn some comfort from the fact that the other knew what it felt like to lose loved ones. In a way, Maya did as well, but she had only been _separated_ from her husband and daughter; there had still been a chance she'd see them again. Gala and Songi would never see their parents again, and even at such young ages, they'd had to accept that.

After about a month at the monastery, Songi had begun dealing with his grief by straying outside the protective boundaries of the indoor city and wandering off into the nearby forests to go exploring. Being cooped up inside night and day, unable to play outside unless the wind was blowing in the right direction and there was an intrusive adult free to supervise, Songi had gotten bored very easily, very quickly.

Often, he'd dragged Gala along with him. Or, maybe 'dragged' wasn't a fair word. He hadn't _forced_ him, after all. But Gala had always come along when he'd asked him, because he just couldn't stand the idea of letting his only friend wander into such peril without him. Together, the risk of all the Seru that constantly roamed the two forests wasn't as big, though it _was_ still there.

With his fighting skills, as well as the ones he was quickly picking up at the monastery, Songi had taken huge delight in destroying every Seru they came across. It hadn't taken much for Gala to join in, as he'd been learning the ways of a Biron warrior even faster than his friend, and together they had made quite the impressive duo. The fact that Seru had caused the sadness that had led Gala and Songi there in the first place had only made them more committed.

The 'gentleness' Maya was referring to came from the fact that, despite Songi's ferocity with Seru and his bluntness with most people, even after he'd started to trust others in the monastery, he'd had a strange compassion for any other living thing. The forests were dangerous, unforgiving places, especially with all the Seru there, and often the two boys had found small birds or rodents lying injured or dying on the forest floors. Seru didn't eat, so they merely mangled the helpless creatures and left them out to die or to be consumed by bigger, stronger animals.

Songi had always taken the injured creatures, and the tenderness with which he held and crooned to them had never ceased to amaze Gala. He was never that gentle with people, even him or Maya, but something about animals just seemed to soften him. Gala had often thought that it might've had something to do with his father, or even his mother. Perhaps one or both of them had really liked animals, and the creatures brought back some fond, soothing memories.

Whatever the reason, Songi had always insisted on smuggling the animals back to the monastery and nursing them back to health in his and Gala's room. A lot of the time, the animals' presence had given them away to Maya or Master Zopu, revealing the boys had been in those dangerous, Seru-infested forests and earning them both huge, severe punishments. Songi hadn't appeared to care, though. He'd seemed to think it was worth it.

But somehow, at some point, Songi had changed. His honorable traits had diminished or disappeared, to be replaced with greed, anger and a fierce, unyielding lust for power. Gala was fairly sure what had caused it, too. Losing his father and being shut up inside for so long had probably had something to do with it, but more than anything it had been the way he was always being outdone by Gala, his best friend.

Gala was better at Songi at almost everything - better at cooking, better at making things, better at academics, better at learning the ancient Biron script, better at making people like and respect him, and worst of all, better at fighting. Despite Songi's head-start and older age, Gala had quickly surpassed him, almost always beating him when they'd sparred. Everyone around them had constantly expressed their admiration and preference for Gala's abilities, without the faintest effort to hide these feelings from the other boy.

And this had eventually made Songi resent Gala, resent _everyone_, even Maya and Master Zopu to some extent. He'd begun going out into the forests to train more often, almost obsessively, and he'd stopped inviting Gala to go along with him. Before long, he'd stopped bringing back wounded animals as well, though it was certain that the forests had still been filled with them.

His arrogance had changed to flat-out narcissism and vanity, his laziness had changed to selfishness and a blatant disregard for others' feelings, and his sarcasm had changed to anger and hatred, a real intent to hurt others as much as possible with his words. Eventually, he'd even stopped hating Seru, or at least forgotten he hated them. The fact that they'd killed his father no longer mattered; if Seru could make him stronger, make him able to beat Gala, he wanted one, no matter what it cost.

**Whew! Yeah, like I said, mostly back-story stuff. I like the idea of Songi being sweet in an odd, gruff sort of way when he was younger, before he grew bitter and full of hatred and became influenced by Cort. But yeah, be sure to let me know what you think! :) I hope the chapter wasn't too boring. XD**

**(I'm aware that I was really lazy in not writing the scene with Hari at the start properly, and I'll probably go back and fix it up at some point.)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, here's chapter 3! Thank you so much for the reviews, Hikari No Aijou and Merel. And thanks for logging in this time, Merel, so people wouldn't think I was sockpuppet-reviewing my own fic. ;D Guest (I know who you are :3), words cannot describe how much I hate you. XD (Nuh, you're awesome as well. XD)**

**This chapter is a bit shorter, but there's some character interaction as promised! :) I hope I didn't make Songi come off as OoC here. I don't think so, and I'll explain further at the end. Anyway, enjoy!**

_Chapter 3_

The sound of a low groan woke Gala from his thoughts, and with some kind of dim shock, he saw Songi's blue eyes open and move slowly and groggily around the room before focusing on the brunet beside him.

"H-Hey..." Songi said, barely above a whisper.

Gala sat perfectly still, unsure of what to say or do. The logical thing, of course, was to fetch Zalan as he'd promised, but he wasn't exactly thinking logically right then, so all he could do was stare stupidly back at his former best friend.

"I..."

Songi was swallowing, seemingly trying to get enough fluid into his mouth to speak. Finally, he managed:

"I-It hurts. A lot."

Gala came to himself enough to open his mouth and call for Zalan. Even as he heard the jeweller rushing into the room though, Gala couldn't take his eyes from Songi. He looked truly awful, with his hair and pale skin literally dripping with sweat, his chest heaving weakly as he struggled to draw breath, and his eyes creased with pain.

"He's awake?" Zalan asked, getting down on his knees beside them, Pepe right behind him. Gala made himself reply.

"Y-Yeah. He says he's in pain, though."

Zalan nodded, then looked over his shoulder at his son.

"Pepe, fetch me the Jigul grass."

Gala felt a painful lurch in his stomach. Of course, it made sense to be using Jigul grass now, but after his past experience with it, Gala had never wanted to have anything to do with the stuff again. He averted his eyes from Songi and stared at the opposite wall as Pepe left the room to fetch the medicine.

Songi groaned again, more quietly this time. He sounded so weak, Gala hardly recongnized him. He'd always associated Songi's voice with strength and vitality. He didn't look back at him then. He couldn't. Instead, he just kept staring at the wall until Pepe returned with the Jigul grass. He handed it to Zalan and stood back, his eyes wide. It was clear that he thought Songi was going to die on them, no matter what they did.

"Thanks, Pepe," Zalan said. "Master Gala, could you please lift his head while I administer the grass?"

Zalan moved forward without waiting for an answer, probably because he assumed Gala would have no problem with doing such a thing. Then again, such a thought was only logical. If Gala didn't want to help make Songi well again, why would he have brought him to his house? Still...

Gala took his eyes from the wall, instead focusing them on the top of Songi's damp hair. He placed both his powerful hands behind his head and lifted it into a somewhat vertical position. The back of Songi's hair was as wet and sticky as it looked, and it made Gala somewhat sick to touch it, because it only confirmed how ill the man really was.

Zalan wasted no time in gently and patiently pushing the powerful medicine into Songi's mouth, making sure he swallowed each bit before he grabbed any more. Gala felt a powerful wave of gratitude towards him. He was all too happy to help, even though Gala wasn't explaining anything, and even though Fury Boosts and Jigul grass weren't exactly cheap. And when one considered that it had been Zalan's crafting that Ra-Seru egg into the Light Talisman that had saved Songi, it was almost impossible for Gala not to openly worship the jeweller.

Once he'd finished with the grass, Zalan took the small cup of water Pepe had also brought and carefully tipped it into the patient's mouth. Even with the care he took, Songi still coughed quite a bit, and Gala had to struggle not to lose his grip on the back of his head. Once the cup was empty, Zalan withdraw for a moment to retrieve another Fury Boost. The amount of blood Songi had lost made regular doses of the energy-enhancing concoction a very good idea, even though it, like the Jigul grass, brought back bad memories for Gala. Once he'd given Songi the Fury Boost as well, Zalan stood up again.

"The Jigul grass will make him sleepy and numb, but it'll help with the pain, and he's probably better off sleeping when he's lost so much blood anyway," Zalan said. For a jeweller, he certainly knew his stuff when it came to healing.

He cast a concerned glance at Gala, as though debating whether to ask him again if he wanted to leave Songi to him and get some rest, but he evidently thought better of it. He and Pepe left the room again, leaving the two young men alone once more.

Gala was extremely tired, of course. The long battle with Juggernaut and Cort, not to mention the one with Songi only a few hours beforehand, had drained him horribly. He would've loved to sleep himself, like Vahn and Noa were no doubt doing, like Songi would soon be doing once the Jigul grass took effect. But all the same he was moderately content. After all, Rim Elm and everyone who lived there was safe, Vahn and Noa were safe, and the world was finally free of the Mist. And maybe if things went well enough, Songi would make a full recovery, and then...

_What?_ an inner, mocking voice asked. _Songi will recover, and then you and he will be best friends again? Is that what you're thinking? What makes you think he won't just try to chase power and kill people again? A near-death experience doesn't mean he would've changed._

Gala ignored the voice. He was dimly aware that he was still holding the back of his former friend's head, and he let go, gently lowering his head back onto the pillow. Still, he didn't look at Songi. He didn't think he could face that right then, if ever, especially when he was still trying so hard to deny and ignore his inner rationale.

"Hey..."

Songi wasn't asleep yet, it seemed, although he sounded like he was nearly there. Gala hesitated for a moment before his nerves got the best of him, and he opened his mouth to reply in an attempt at a casual voice.

"Yes?"

There was a short pause, then:

"I-I'm sorry. Back then... with the Jigul grass."

Gala jolted. He could hardly believe his ears. He looked back at Songi, wondering if he'd imagined the words. Songi's eyes were almost closed, but there was a weak sort of smile on his face.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled again.

Gala stared stupidly at him for several seconds, unable to speak. He couldn't even remember the last time Songi had apologized for anything. It had certainly been before the incident he was referring to now, and that had been ages ago.

That didn't make it all right, though. Songi had done a lot of unforgivable things. On a scale of one to ten, that stunt with the Jigul grass was probably only a one, compared to everything else. Gala swallowed, trying not to put too much emotion into his voice, and muttered:

"I would've thought you'd have a lot more to be sorry about than a stupid fight we had over two years ago."

Gala hadn't known what kind of reaction he was expecting from Songi at these words, but he certainly wasn't prepared for the one he got. Songi's smile faded, and his nearly-closed eyes darkened.

"Yeah," he said. His voice was much weaker and sleepier now. "I... I guess I really screwed up, huh?"

Gala didn't answer but turned away and looked at the wall again. He was feeling so many things at once, he didn't know how to handle it. Certainly, he couldn't stand looking at Songi any longer right then. He swallowed again, trying to keep down the painful lump that was steadily building in his throat.

"Never mind that now," Gala said finally, as coldly as he could manage. "Just go to sleep."

There was no reply, and when, several minutes later, Gala got enough control of himself to look back at Songi, he saw that the Jigul grass had finally taken effect and that the red-haired man was sleeping soundly.

Gala, utterly drained himself, took the now-almost dry wash cloth from where he'd discarded it when Songi had awoken. He folded it in half, laid it down on the edge of the low bed as far away from Songi's body as possible, and rested his head upon it.

He didn't really think about the fact that he was sleeping so closely to a man who, only yesterday, had been one of his greatest enemies. He was too tired to care anymore, and some part of him felt more secure in that position anyway, if only because he'd probably be alerted if Songi stirred.

As it turned out though, he was wrong about that, because when he awoke many hours later, his neck aching and his head thick with sleep, Songi had vanished, leaving only the bare sheets of the bed and a few bloodstains behind.

**OMG! Cliffhanger! Yup, I'm evil! ;) Now, about Songi's dialogue: I like to think the fact that he was drugged, almost asleep, just freed of a Sim Ra-Seru and still shaken from his near-death experience guided him in what he said. The apology is definitely unlike him, but this fic goes over a lot of changes in his personality as he develops. He won't remember it when he wakes up, though Gala will. Although, what happened here is kind of tame compared to what happens in the next chapter. I hope I can pull it off. XD**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello! Thank you so much for the reviews, Hikari No Aijou, Merel and Barako! LoL is so under-appreciated, so I'm always glad to get some reviews and positive feedback! :)**

**So, in this chapter, there's some slight character development that stems mostly from Songi finally being released from the influence of an evil Ra-Seru and thinking, "Oh God, what have I been doing?!" But don't worry; Songi will be back to his normal, douche-bag self that we all know and love after the next chapter - at least until the next batch of character development. :D Despite everything that happens in this chapter, I really hope I made Songi in-character enough.**

**EDIT: Thanks once again to Hikari No Aijou for pointing out a mistake I made. I misspelled Soren as 'Soran.' xD Since I'm sure the name comes from the Japanese word for _sky_, _sora_, I must've thought more of it went into the name than it really did. ^^ Oh, and thanks to Barako for pointing out that I misspelled 'recognized.' Damn typos. xD  
**

_Chapter 4_

Panic engulfed Gala, and for a few seconds he could barely think straight. He got to his feet shakily and ran from the room, stumbling a little as his body struggled to wake up with the rest of him.

'I never should've gone to sleep. I never should've gone to sleep,' Gala thought deliriously as he made his way through the house and towards the front door.

He couldn't see Zalan or Pepe anywhere, and he briefly wondered if they'd gone out. It'd certainly explain why no one had woken him when Songi had escaped. How many hours did he have on him, Gala wondered furiously as he pulled open the door and ran outside. He could be miles away at this point, and Gala had no way of knowing where he might've gone.

What would Songi be doing now? Terrorizing and murdering more helpless people, or bleeding to death in a gutter somewhere? Gala honestly didn't know which option frightened him more, but he did know that he had to find him before either of those things happened. And if Songi _was_ killing more people, was doing more of what Gala never would've once thought possible of him to begin with, then it would be his, Gala's, fault for preventing his former friend's death in that sacred dimension, wouldn't it? His fault, his...

'Don't panic,' he told himself firmly as he looked around the immediate area outside Zalan's house. 'He's injured, badly. He can't have gone far.'

He spotted a pair of young girls, no older than six or seven, playing in the streets just a few meters away from him, and he forced himself to smile in a friendly way as he approached. If they'd been here when Songi had run off, surely they must've seen which way he'd gone. And even if they hadn't, someone else in the village would've. Definitely.

"Excuse me," Gala said politely, trying not to sound too abrupt. He didn't want to scare them.

The girls looked at him with mild curiosity, no fear in their expressions. With some embarrassment, Gala realized that they probably recognized him as one of the Ra-Seru heroes who had saved Jeremi and the rest of the Sebucus Islands. He flushed slightly, then remembered what he was supposed to be worrying about, and said:

"Did you two happen to see anyone come out of Zalan's house in the last few hours, besides Zalan or his son?"

One of the girls giggled and looked shyly away, as though awed by Gala's presence, but the other beamed and piped up straight away:

"Yeah, we did! Just a little while ago. A muscly guy with spiky red hair and a big white bandage came running out of the house."

Gala only just managed to stop himself from sighing out loud in relief.

"Did you see which way he went?" he asked instead, trying without success to control his rapid heartbeat.

"Yeah, I think he was going towards the tower. You know, the big one at the end of town."

Gala nodded. He knew the place. He, Vahn and Noa, along with their Ra-Seru, had traversed that tower not too long ago. At its top was a beautiful place called the Sky Garden, which housed one of the many Genesis Trees he and his companions had managed to awaken on their quest.

Stopping only to mutter a hurried thanks to the two girls, Gala sped off towards the tower.

ZzZzZzZ

It didn't take Gala long to find him, huddled up under a small, tight arch at the foot of the tower, his head in his lap. The space was so tiny, barely a meter and a half across and wide. It certainly wouldn't be a good spot for claustrophobics. Gala tried not to let his utter relief, mingled with a dull kind of rage, show through as he approached. When he was only a few feet away though, the brunet noticed something about Songi that, for a moment, he couldn't quite comprehend.

The young man's powerful shoulders were shaking violently, and his breaths were coming in wavering, broken gasps. He was covering his face hard with both arms, which were pressed up against his knees.

Songi was _crying_.

Gala, in some kind of daze, got down on his knees beside him, hesitantly reached out a hand and laid it on his shoulder. Songi hadn't cried in years. Even despite the Biron Monastery's strict outlook on men - even children - crying, Songi had always been a tough person who had preferred to solve his problems with fists rather than talking or sobbing. He probably hadn't cried in over eight years, at the very _least_.

Songi drew in his breath sharply as he felt Gala's hand on his bare shoulder, but he didn't lift his head, and it didn't take very long for his breathing to break up into choked, sporadic sobs again.

"You scared the life out of me," Gala said gruffly, though not quite as gruffly as he would've liked. He didn't want to yell or snap at the crying man. Not just because it might scare him off, but also because he was so subdued by seeing Songi in such a state that most of his anger had disappeared for the moment. There was no reply.

Gala, without taking his hand from Songi's shoulder, moved forward and crawled into the arch beside him. It was a surprisingly warm and cozy place, enclosed on the top, bottom and three of its sides by sturdy stone. Its one open side, thankfully, was facing the opposite direction that the somewhat chilly afternoon breeze was currently blowing in.

There was enough room inside that the two didn't have to scrunch up together but not so much room that they could avoid touching altogether. Gala found his right side pushed up against Songi's left, the same side as the shoulder he was still touching.

Gala moved his hand forward a little so that his entire right arm was wrapped around Songi's shoulders in a loose half-hug. He didn't really think about what he was doing; less than twenty four hours ago, the idea of touching this man in any way would've disgusted him to his core, but now it didn't really matter. He hated to see Songi cry. It wasn't like him at all, and the fact that he'd recently narrowly avoided death and was still in a pretty critical condition made it all the more disconcerting. It only seemed to confirm that he really had changed and would never be the same again.

Gala would never forgive him for betraying the Biron Monastery, but Songi had been such a great friend to him, practically like a brother. He'd protected and stood by Gala where no one else would. He'd understood and shared the trivial, mundane problems kids and young teenagers often had. He'd shared the pain of losing loved ones in that horrible massacre so many years before. There'd actually been times when Gala had sought his advice or help over Maya's and Master Zopu's.

In some ways, Gala had even admired Songi, appreciating his independence despite being annoyed by it at times, too. Songi's bravery and loyalty had awed Gala more times than his laziness and insulting ideas of humor had, and despite the red-head's fondness for taking shortcuts in his training, Gala had often been rather impressed by Songi's strength and skill.

"Are you crying because you betrayed the monastery?" Gala asked softly.

He was usually a little more delicate in the way he spoke, but he didn't see a reason to be right then. If Songi had been a girl, Gala probably would've softened his words by holding him with both hands, but he obviously couldn't do that. As it was, he knew Master Zopu would be ashamed if he could see them both now. They were supposed to be grown, strong men who had been trained perfectly in the ways of Biron, yet here they were: Songi bawling like a toddler, and Gala consoling him like he was a woman or a young child.

Not that Gala really blamed him. If he'd done what Songi had done, he probably would've been crying, too. It was just good to know that he really was sorry.

Songi must've been cold, since he wasn't wearing anything above the waist aside from the bandages, and it wasn't exactly a warm day. He didn't appear to notice the cold, though. With his terrible wound and fatigue, it was a wonder he'd been able to run out here the way he had, let alone be sobbing so hard. Then again, Songi had always had an impressive amount of energy and endurance - probably to compensate for his lack of patience.

Gala had no idea how long they sat there for, crouched together under the arch while Songi cried his heart out and Gala did his best to comfort him without getting too feely himself. Finally, after what must have been at least ten minutes, Songi took his hands from his face and raised his head, but he made a point to keep staring in the other direction.

"I-I didn't know," he said. His voice was hoarse. "That Seru Jedo wasn't normal. It made me stop caring and just... _act_. It made me hate you more than I already did. I... I didn't know it'd do that."

These words were so like Songi, Gala might've laughed in relief if the situation were a little different. Songi had always tried to avoid blame when they were younger, insist that things weren't his fault even when they were. On the few occasions that he really acknowledged his mistakes, he did so with a certain resentment and sulkiness that often lingered for days afterwards.

Now though, Gala was too irritated to find Songi's words a relief. If the space they were in hadn't been so tight and he hadn't been half-scared that Songi would spring up and try to run as soon as he let go of him, Gala probably would've pulled his hand away.

"Oh, so this isn't your fault at all, Songi?!" he snapped. "Someone else made you put on that evil Ra-Seru, and someone else convinced you that you're a god who deserves to rule the world?!"

He'd half-expected an angry retort from Songi, perhaps a failed attempt at extricating himself from his grip and fleeing, but instead all he got was a shaky, half-choked sigh.

"It _is_ my fault," Songi said. He still wasn't looking at Gala. "I didn't care about anything except beating you, and once I had that damned Seru on my arm, even though I didn't care who I hurt, I told myself several times that it'd be better if I just took it off again. But all I could think of was beating you and getting stronger."

"This all might be very moving, Songi," Gala said, his voice cold, "if all you were apologizing for was stealing a honey cake, or lying to Maya about copying my homework, or... _drugging_ me at the Transmigration Festival's tournament, but this isn't good enough here. You _killed_ people! You almost wiped out Vahn's entire village! You betrayed the Biron Monastery! You killed several of our friends! If Noa and Vahn hadn't stepped in, Maya and Master Zopu would've been killed, too! Your own _family_, Songi! Practically like our parents! And for what?! Just so you could kill me and finally feel important again?!"

He shook the older man's shoulder roughly as he spoke. Songi didn't resist but just stayed quiet until Gala, breathing hard, stilled again.

"I never wanted to kill you."

Songi's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. He did look at Gala then, and the sight of his face - tear-stained, splotchy, flushed and yet somehow pale at the same time - was almost as shocking as the fact that he'd been crying in the first place. Moreover, his blue eyes were anguished and desperate, characteristics that they evidently weren't used to.

"I never wanted to kill you," Songi said again. He looked Gala directly in the eyes. "I never, _never_ wanted to kill you. You have to believe that. Even when that... _thing_ was on my arm and it kept telling me I had to stop holding back and destroy you if I wanted to be left in peace, I couldn't. I wanted to beat you... _so_ badly. I wanted to humiliate you and make you suffer, but I never wanted you to die. I _promise_ you that."

Gala set his jaw for several seconds before he replied. On paper, Songi's words sounded very sincere, but...

"You don't remember what you yelled when the Ra-Seru was tearing you apart, then?" he said tonelessly. "'You're next, Gala. You're next.'"

Songi's swollen, red-rimmed eyes blinked briefly in confusion before understanding dawned in them, followed quickly by something that could've been shame but seemed more like defense.

"I..." He dropped his gaze again. "I was dying. It hurt... so much."

"So when you were dying, all you could think about was how you wanted me to suffer," Gala said. It was a statement, not a question.

Songi's fists clenched, the knuckles whitening until they were almost as colorless as his face had been a few hours before.

"I was thinking about a million things when... b-back then. The pain... I-I didn't want to think I'd gone through all that, _murdered_ all those people, for nothing."

"What about the floating fortress?" Gala asked. "You seemed pretty eager to kill me there."

"It was Cort's idea to rig that floating fortress and kill you guys, not mine," Songi said wretchedly. "I didn't want to do it, and Jedo... m-my Ra-Seru told me that it'd be easier if I just let go and not care when it happened. And I-I tried, but i-it... y-you don't know how happy I was to see you guys flying away with those Soren after the fortress collapsed. Even Vahn and that barbarian girl."

"Her name's Noa."

Noa had annoyed Gala greatly at first with her over-abundant supply of enthusiasm and social ignorance, but over time Gala had really grown to care for the young, wild girl and regard her as a true friend. Besides, Songi hardly had a right to be calling anyone else a barbarian after the way he'd acted.

"Whatever," Songi said distractedly. "Anyway, I..." His head snapped up suddenly, and before Gala could say anything, he found himself shocked into silence by Songi's intense expression.

"Maya and Master Zopu... You said they're still... alive?" he asked, real concern appearing in his eyes for the first time.

Gala quickly got over his shock and limply took his hand from around Songi's shoulders. He didn't want to, since his worry that the other man might bolt as soon as he got the chance was still there, but he couldn't help it. He felt he might be sick if he kept touching this man. Of course, the fact that his right side was still all but crunched up against Songi's left didn't really help much.

How long had it taken this miserable bastard to ask about the people he'd betrayed? Of course, he couldn't ask about them before he was finished feeling sorry for himself and trying to make excuses for his behavior, could he? No, that would be too much to ask for.

"They're fine," the brunet said. "It didn't take long for you to finally ask about them. By your standards, at least. I can't say I'm surprised."

Songi's face tightened, and Gala recongnized, with some sense of relief, the familiar anger on his former friend's face. There was definite relief showing somewhere in his features though, even behind the anger.

"Should I... Do you want me to go?" Songi asked after a moment. He still looked angry, but his voice only sounded tired. "I can leave here and go live alone somewhere, and you'll never have to see me again."

Gala only just managed to stop himself from springing up at these words. He had no idea what Songi might do if he left him alone, and he didn't want to find out. On the one hand, he knew that, despite everything, the man was genuinely sorry for what he'd done. On the other hand, if someone had asked Gala before it had happened if he thought Songi could ever be capable of doing the things he'd done or tried to do, even after their friendship had broken up, Gala would've answered with one-hundred-percent certainty, "No, of course not. Are you crazy?" He simply couldn't afford to take risks with this person.

"You're not going anywhere," he said. "Not until I'm sure you won't try anything like this ever again. I'll keep you prisoner if I have to."

He was saved the unpleasantness of imagining what it would be like to have to keep constant tabs on such a man for who knew how long by a heated, exasperated sigh from Songi.

"Then what the hell do you want from me?!" he almost screamed. "I screwed up! I know I did! I... I'd wish _I_ was dead right now, if I knew dying didn't hurt so much. I..." His voice trembled, and he looked away once more. He stared hard at the interior of the stone arch's wall closest to him, barely an inch from his face. "I don't have anywhere to go now. Everyone hates me!"

Songi buried his face in his hands again. He wasn't crying now, but he was clutching his head like he was afraid it would float away otherwise, and his breathing was very strained. Gala looked at him blankly for a long moment, unsure of what to think. Songi's words had sounded so self-pitying, so typical of him, but somehow Gala had still been able to see the pain and despair behind them. There was such a silent but obvious plea for help hidden within them.

Despite all the terrible things Songi had done, Gala received no joy in watching him suffer so much. It just made him uncomfortable and, though he hated to admit it, somewhat sympathetic.

Gala looked at the red-head steadily, unsure of what to say or do. He almost wanted to put his hand on his shoulder again, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to. Finally, after a long, suffocating silence, Gala said, with complete sincerity:

"Songi, I don't hate you."

**Well, this chapter originally had a much more abrupt ending, but thanks to advice from Hikari No Aijou, I was able to soften the ending considerably. Thanks a lot, girl! ;D The next chapter shouldn't take too long, since it's mostly done. :) Oh, and I should just make it clear that I have no problem with men crying. It's just that Legaia is a very medieval-type place, and the Biron religion seems like it'd frown upon such things, so I just added that in. Oh, and thanks to Merel for pointing out a typo! HOW DARE YOU CORRECT ME, YOU BITCH? ;D  
**

**Like I said, I hope I didn't make Songi seem OoC. This fic focuses both on his good and bad points, but since we didn't really see much of his good side in the game, I kind of had to take some liberties. ;D**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, remember when I said the next chapter shouldn't take too long... over a month ago? -_- Yeah, sorry about that. Real life has been keeping me busy, mostly because I recently turned 22. Yayz. xD Anyway, this chapter continues the conversation between Gala and Songi. Both are somewhat whiny in it, but I hope I managed to make them enough like they are in the game to keep it convincing. ^^**

**As always, thanks for the reviews, Hikari No Aijou, Barako and Merel. :)  
**

_Chapter 5  
_

There was a rapid intake of breath from Songi, followed by a noticeable tenseness of his body beside Gala's. The brunet felt his cheeks flush slightly and tried to keep all emotion out of his voice when he next spoke.

"I mean, I'm never going to forgive you for this, any of it, but you were... you were my best friend." _Like a brother to me._ "I don't want to cut you out of my life. And Maya and Master Zopu... I'm sure they don't want to, either."

Songi took several deep, unsteady breaths before answering, speaking into his hands.

"I can never see them again. I feel sick enough already."

Gala didn't answer this. He thought - hoped - that Songi would change his mind at some point and want to see Maya and Master Zopu. Not just for his own benefit, but for theirs as well. The two were practically like parents to them, and Maya at least wanted to see Songi again.

"You defeated Juggernaut?" Songi asked after about half a minute of silence, head still in his hands.

Gala felt a slight twinge of irritation go through him, though nothing compared to how he'd felt when Songi had taken so long to ask about everyone in the monastery. Honestly, had the guy always been this slow at getting the details to vital things, or was it an after-effect of the Sim Ra-Seru he'd been wearing for so long?

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" Gala said in mild annoyance. "And the world hasn't been destroyed. What does that tell you?"

He'd been hoping Songi would give some kind of smile or even a weak laugh to this, but instead he let out a long, wavering sigh. He took his hands from his face, lifted his head and stared straight out in front of him, his eyes oddly blank.

"How... How many people died when I... when I let those... those things into the monastery?"

Gala had to bite his lip to stop himself from snapping: "'_Died_?' You mean how many people you _killed_?"

But he knew Songi was blank, both in tone and in expression, as some kind of defense mechanism: Denial. Disbelief. Unable to face the fact that he'd attacked and killed his own people. So he did his best to keep the sharpness out of his voice.

"Seven."

He felt the way Songi shuddered, even as his face and eyes remained empty. It seemed to come from deep inside him, from his very core, making his whole body vibrate for several seconds afterwards. Gala didn't know what he could say. What _could_ you say to someone in this situation? Words wouldn't be a comfort now. Nothing would.

"What about the people of Rim Elm?" Songi asked, still in that same, blank voice. This time, Gala was relieved to be able to give him a less grim answer.

"No one died there. We were able to destroy Juggernaut in time and save everyone." The specifics of how that had happened, how their Ra-Seru had given their lives for that to happen, weren't important to relay right then.

Songi closed his eyes, and an unmistakable look of relief showed on his tear-stained, clammy face before melting away and being replaced by emptiness again.

Gala hesitated, unsure if he should add what he wanted to say next in case it sent his companion into another rant. After a moment though, he decided to risk it.

"Maya was really worried about you. I think she'd like to see you again, when things have calmed down a bit."

Songi shook his head, opening his eyes.

"I can't."

"She never blamed you," Gala said. He was unsure if he was speaking for Maya's sake or Songi's. "She said it was because of the Ra-Seru, that you were always such a gentle and obedient kid." He did not add that he himself didn't fully agree with this.

Songi's hands dropped limply to his sides, and he looked down again. He didn't reply, and Gala didn't know what else he could say on the subject, at least right then. It was going to be a long road to restore the friendship they'd had, if it could be restored at all, and it made Gala exhausted just thinking about it.

Besides which, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to be friends with Songi again. He didn't want him to die, and he didn't want to be away from him, at least until he was sure he wouldn't try anything again, and as he'd said, he didn't want to cut him out of his life. But did he want to be his friend again? _Could_ he be his friend again after all this?

"We... We should go back to Zalan's house," Gala said after a brief pause. He was growing increasingly aware of how warm Songi's body was against his side, and it made him feel very uneasy. He wasn't in the mood for sensations like warmth right then, not when he was feeling so cold and confused inside.

When Songi didn't respond, Gala added, more firmly: "Songi, we'll catch a cold if we stay in this place when it gets dark. Besides, you need to rest. You've lost a lot of blood."

Songi looked up slowly and gave a weak, defeated sort of nod.

"Okay."

Without preamble, he crawled forward and out through the arch's opening before awkwardly standing. Gala followed immediately, afraid even now that Songi might try to make a run for it.

But the second he was out in the open, Gala was struck by how much colder the day had become. Songi, too, looked like he was noticing it, especially since he wasn't wearing anything besides the bandages above his waist. Goosebumps were rising on his bare shoulders, and he was trembling noticeably.

Gala managed to get to him just before Songi's knees gave out and he stumbled violently. Gala grabbed him roughly around the shoulder again and managed to steady him, but even so Songi didn't look like he could remain standing for much longer. He must've been even weaker than he'd first thought; even through the goose-flesh, Gala could still feel hot sweat running down the older man's arm.

With much difficulty, Gala managed to get Songi back to Zalan's house. Unfortunately, the increasingly cold weather seemed to have driven everyone from the nearby streets, so there was no one around to help Gala take Songi's increasingly dead weight.

By the time they got back to Zalan's, Gala was about ready to collapse himself. He was strong, sure, but he hadn't been built to support so much of Songi's 183 pounds - probably even more since they'd both left the monastery; Gala had been certain that the two of them had grown at least an inch taller each since they'd last been measured.

Zalan opened the door barely two seconds after Gala's powerful fist began pounding on it. His eyes were full of questions, but he didn't voice any as he, like before, moved in to assist Gala with Songi. Together, the two were able to get him back into the small guest room he'd been staying in.

Gala tried to be relatively gentle as they helped Songi lower himself onto the ankle-high bed, since he knew sudden movements were very bad for deep and still-healing wounds, but his energy had all but left him now, and poor Zalan was left to do most of the work. By the time Songi was lying safely in the bed again, a thick sheet covering the majority of his body, all three men were breathing hard.

"I-I'm sorry," Gala said as soon as he had enough breath to speak. Really, it should've been Songi who was apologizing, but that probably wasn't going to be happening any time soon.

"N-Not at all," Zalan wheezed back, clutching his side and trying to smile. "I-I've been s-so... so out of shape lately."

_Too bad Songi couldn't be the same way,_ Gala thought grimly. If the two of them hadn't spent more than half their lives under the strict, muscle-building training techniques of Biron and basically lived on porridge, rare meat, and boiled vegetables - with the occasional honey cake or fruit here and there - Songi probably would've been a lot lighter.

"Thank you," Gala said after a short pause. "Thank you for everything, Zalan. I promise I won't burden you with this" - _with _him - "for much longer."

Zalan shook his head adamantly.

"Master Gala, you saved this whole town from the Mist. You reunited me with my son. You freed _all_ of the Sebucus Islands from the Mist. You could never, _never_ be a burden to me."

Gala flushed and shuffled his feet a little in embarrassment. Sure, what the jeweller had said was more or less true, but Gala had never been too comfortable with having praise heaped on him - the exact opposite of Songi, in fact.

Zalan looked slightly embarrassed too, probably from expressing his feelings so openly. He straightened up and offered the brunet a wide smile, which Gala attempted to somewhat return.

"Well, I'll leave you in peace," he said humbly. He glanced briefly at Songi, who had his eyes closed, his breathing only just starting to ease up.

"If you don't mind me asking, Master Gala, what is your friend's name?"

_Ah, so he does assume we're friends, after all,_ Gala thought bitterly, but he tried not to let himself show any outward annoyance.

"Songi."

Zalan evidently didn't pick up on any of the malice in Gala's voice and merely nodded.

"Well, if Master Songi needs anything, just come and tell me, and I'll do everything I can."

Gala flinched and, before he could stop himself, snapped:

"Don't call him that."

He had been uncomfortable enough with Zalan addressing _him_ with such an extravagant prefix, even though he was used to it from being the Master Teacher at the Biron Monastery for over two years, but Songi? No. _No one_ was going to call Songi such a thing, especially not Zalan.

Gala took a quiet, calming breath that he hoped wouldn't be noticed and forced himself to speak more politely.

"Don't call him 'Master.' Please. Just... Just 'Songi.' And you don't have to keep addressing me that way, either."

Zalan, looking somewhere between uncomfortable and apologetic, shrugged in what was probably hoped was a nonchalant way.

"O-Of course, Master Ga- G-Gala. Then, if you'll excuse me..."

The jeweller hurried out of the room, closing the door behind him and no doubt wondering what on earth had gotten into his honored guest all of a sudden.

Gala stared at the tattered-looking oak of the door, praying silently to Biron that Songi would fall asleep again without speaking a word to him.

His prayers weren't answered.

"All my life, I've been waiting for someone to call me 'Master.' Of course, you just had to ruin it for me, didn't you?"

The words were intended as a joke and were. Gala knew that. Maybe he should've been happy that Songi was showing at least some sign of his old self, but he wasn't. The anger had returned again, and though Gala hated the way it consumed him and made him want to pummel everything that lived or moved within a hundred-mile radius, he didn't try to suppress it.

"You don't deserve to have your _name_ mentioned by that great man, let alone have have it modified with something that suggests you're his superior," Gala said coldly, still not looking at Songi. He couldn't see the red-head's reaction to these words, of course, but he hoped it was something like hurt and misery - _craved_ it to be that.

And to think, only a few minutes ago, he'd been comforting him, speaking gently to him and assuring him that he didn't hate him. But somehow, that seemed like an eternity ago now. All Gala could think of right then was the panic that had filled him upon finding Songi gone when he'd awoken, and that memory was enraging him, even _without_ taking everything else Songi had done lately into account.

"Oh, and if you _ever_ run off like that again," Gala added as an afterthought, glaring at the closed door as though he wanted to tear it apart, "I will do things to you that will make what happened to you in the Seru-kai look like a picnic, Songi."

If he hadn't been so angry, Gala might've actually been scared to realize that he completely meant what he'd just said. Instead, he turned slowly around to face his companion, looking at him in the exact same way he'd just been looking at the door.

Songi had his eyes open now, staring at him, but his expression was closer to annoyed than terrified, devastated, pained or any of the other things Gala would've liked to see on his face then.

"From now on, you're not leaving my sight," Gala said. "Not until I can trust you not to act like a complete psychopath once you're left alone."

"I wouldn't," Songi said, sounding almost indignant. Gala had a sudden urge to laugh in disgust, but he managed to resist it.

"Forgive me for not believing that," he said, before returning to his threats - no, _promises_. "And don't think you can hide from me, either. If you run, I'll find you, I assure you."

Songi's blue eyes hardened, and he actually looked angry.

"I _won't_ run. Calm down."

A short, awkward pause.

"Can I go back to sleep now, 'Master' Gala? I'm tired."

Gala's fists clenched, and he found himself having to seriously struggle not to get up and beat the arrogant bastard to within an inch of his life. Outside of just managing to stop himself from snapping that he wouldn't be so tired if he hadn't run off, Gala was dimly aware that this was the first time Songi had used his name for quite some time.

Regardless, Gala didn't even bother to answer him. Instead, he lay down stiffly on the floor, his back against the bed so that he was facing away from Songi, and kept silent. He wasn't overly uncomfortable, as he'd definitely slept in a lot worse places throughout his journey with Vahn, Noa and their Ra-Seru.

Their Ra-Seru...

Gala's heart clenched painfully at the thought of Ozma - Ozma, who was now gone forever, just like all Seru and Ra-Seru. Before leaving the monastery for the first time, Gala would've been ecstatic to see the end of the age of Seru, but now he wasn't so sure. It'd take a lot of getting used to. The Soren and people of Sol would suffer the most, having relied on Seru literally for hundreds of years, even after the Mist had invaded the land.

Ozma had been his friend, despite everything. Though he hadn't become as dear to him as Vahn and Noa, Gala had still cared for him, just as he knew the Ra-Seru had cared for him.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of heavy, regular breathing from just above him, and Gala realized instantly that Songi was asleep. He'd shared a room with the guy for almost a decade at the monastery, so he was easily able to recognize his sleeping sounds.

One good thing Gala could say for Songi, even then, was that he rarely snored. He was surprisingly quiet when he slept, a sharp contrast to how he was when he was awake. Gala, apparently, snored a lot when he slept, as countless waking nudges in the ribs and annoyed hisses of, "Shut up," from Songi in their youths had told him.

As he began to drift off to sleep himself, Gala thought about Songi. That was all he seemed to be doing lately. It'd been the whole reason he'd started travelling with Vahn and Noa in the first place, after all.

He thought about how Songi, cruel as he was, _had_ occasionally helped them in their quest, from telling them of Zeto's whereabouts and to be careful of him, to keeping his word and deactivating the barrier he'd set up around a Genesis Tree upon being defeated at Mr. Letona.

Gala wondered dimly if Songi had only helped them in order to have them finish off Cort and ultimately gain control of the Seru-kai, but he soon found himself not knowing what to believe. Songi's desire to conquer the sacred world had seemed awfully sudden and over-the-top, even for him. Jedo, the Ra-Seru Cort had modified, had probably had a lot to do with Songi's actions, as he'd desperately told Gala back under that arch.

_"In Songi you will find a nightmare awaiting. Remember - Songi is your shadow, your alter ego."_

The part of the prophecy that the Hari of the Future had told them in Underground Octam burned clearly in Gala's mind. He wasn't quite sure about the last part, and he knew without a trace of doubt that Songi would've been livid if he'd ever found out he'd been referred to as Gala's shadow.

But Gala had to admit, as he slowly nodded off, that the first part of Hari's prediction had been spot-on. Songi was indeed a nightmare awakening, and Gala had a nagging feeling that his troubles with him weren't over just yet.

**Whew! That WAS fun to write. I cannot get enough of these two right now. XD I hope the chapter was okay. ^^**** The next chapter shouldn't take a month, but I don't want to make any promises in case I end up breaking them like last time. :(**

**As a matter of interest, the info on Songi's weight (83 in kilos, for those who prefer the metric system) was taken from the V-jump guide. :3 Also, I've heard that the Japanese Wikipedia mentions the people of Biron being vegetarians, but I have no idea if that's in the V-jump guide or not. My Japanese is quite crappy, and I haven't checked yet. Since Songi's favorite food is mentioned to be rare steak, I'm not sure what to believe. Also-also, I don't think Zalan prefixes the Ra-Seru heroes' names with 'Master' in the game, at least not in the English version, but it was a liberty I felt like taking for some reason. :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Well, here's chapter 6, much earlier than promised! This fic is really coming along. :O In this chapter, Songi does what he does best: acts like a complete asshole. But will Gala stand for it? Will he- Oh, I'll just shut up and let you read the damn chapter. XD**

_Chapter 6_

The next few days passed slowly and uncomfortably. Zalan prepared good meals for his two guests - better than most of the things they were used to - and brought them in to them three times a day.

Gala spent some of his time outside of Songi's room, mostly helping Zalan and Pepe in any way he could in an attempt to repay their hospitality. But a lot of the time, he too slept. His several-month-long quest with Vahn and Noa had tired him considerably, and he was glad for the opportunity to get some regular, uninterrupted sleep at last.

At first, Songi did little else outside of eating and sleeping, usually aided by the effects of mild doses of Jigul grass. But a couple of days later, his wound, despite its severity, was well on its way to healing. This was mostly due to the health and physical strength which training for over half his life in the Biron Monastery had yielded; he could get up out of bed and walk slowly around the house, but would hiss in pain if he tried to make any quick or sudden movements.

Around Zalan and Pepe, Gala was surprised to see that Songi was almost himself, though perhaps _slightly_ less obnoxious. He had long conversations with them about trivial things, and even though the two jewellers still knew virtually nothing about him, they seemed to somewhat enjoy their discussions with him.

Gala had never been much of a talker himself, especially with people he wasn't exceptionally close to. Songi was slightly more talkative, particularly towards people he thought he could gain something from, but for the most part he took a very long time to warm to others. Gala had the feeling he was only really talking to their hosts because he was bored.

At one point, Songi did have enough formality to ask Zalan about his jewelling business, but he quickly lost interest when the jeweller told him he mostly specialized in Seru. Clearly, Songi's attitude towards the mythical, soon-to-be-extinct creatures had not changed. Gala was tempted to point out to Songi that it had been Zalan's skills with making jewels out of Seru that had saved his life. But he quickly decided against it; not even Zalan knew what his work had done.

Around Gala, Songi switched between an odd combination of passive aggressiveness and awkwardness. At times he almost seemed to hate his guts, while at others Gala got the impression that he was somewhat ashamed of himself around him. For all Gala knew, it could very well be both.

There weren't any times when Songi was normal or even semi-normal towards him, the way he was with Zalan and Pepe. Obviously though, Gala didn't make any effort to mend their relationship himself. He felt he'd done more than enough at this point, and he just didn't think he had the energy to deal with Songi in that way, at least for a while.

The incident where Songi had practically cried his eyes out in Gala's arms was apparently meant to be forgotten, but Gala didn't mind that so much. He wanted to forget about it too, except for the part where Songi had shown such clear remorse. It gave him comfort to know that his former friend was, however faintly, still capable of being human. It meant that Jedo hadn't completely driven that out if him.

It didn't take long for the news of Juggernaut's defeat to spread to Jeremi. The townspeople were overjoyed, but since Jeremi and its region had long-since been freed of the Mist, the news wasn't as big as Gala had feared.

Of course, the fact that he, Vahn and Noa had been the ones to defeat the evil Seru was no secret, nor was it a secret that Gala was staying in Jeremi with Zalan. The townspeople were considerate though, and apart from a few eager, star-struck kids, no one came crowding to the jeweller's house and demanded to see the hero.

Songi didn't say anything when Juggernaut was brought up, but the terrible guilt on his face couldn't have been more plain to Gala. Again, this unexpected display of humanity both shook and comforted him, and he found himself almost beginning to trust Songi. Almost. He still couldn't bring himself to completely.

And as the incident the next night proved, it was a good thing he hadn't.

Gala had since moved out of the room Songi was staying in and had taken up residence on the sofa in the sitting room. He'd realized, once it was clear the man was in no danger of dying, that he no longer had any wish to share a room with him. One of the reasons for this was that it brought back painful memories of their days in the monastery, both before and after their friendship had broken up.

When they'd been friends, Gala and Songi had usually whispered to each other for a good while before going to sleep each night, or before Maya or someone else hammered on their doors and _told_ them to go to sleep.

After they'd begun to grow apart and argue though, there had been nothing but stiff, uncomfortable silence in their shared room before they dropped off. And when Songi nudged him awake at night to tell him to stop snoring, it was no longer with the light-hearted, playful air of annoyance that he'd had before; it was with real, fierce anger, and often a promise to inflict bodily harm on him if he didn't shut up.

After a while, Gala had begun to respond to this, just as angrily as Songi, and a few times their loud arguing had awoken other members of the monastery. At last, Gala had swapped rooms with another monk, leaving him to deal with Songi's crap.

If only the anger he'd felt then could've remained indefinitely... instead of being replaced so quickly by that damned, detestable _pain_.

Another reason Gala didn't stay in the room with Songi was that he simply didn't know if wanted to be around him. Despite his assurances that he didn't want to cut him out of his life, Gala wasn't completely sure if he wanted him back in it either, especially if he was going to keep acting the way he was around him.

So, Gala had moved, but he hadn't stopped his suspicions. If Songi tried to sneak out of the house again, Gala probably wouldn't notice. After all, he'd managed to avoid his notice when Gala had been in the room _with_ him, so he shouldn't have a problem doing it now that he had the room to himself.

The room in question _was_ right next to the sitting room, and Songi would have to pass it if he wanted to get outside - all of the windows in the house were far too small to provide an escape - but still Gala hadn't been comforted.

Thus, he'd taken Zalan aside and, embarrassedly and as vaguely as he could, told him that he didn't completely trust the man he'd brought to him. Zalan, understandably curious, had nevertheless nodded and assured him that he would set his mind at ease.

"I will lay down some old, metal scraps from my work outside his room at night," he'd said. "The door opens inward, so if Mas- I mean Songi opens the door and steps out, he'll unsettle the scraps, and the noise should alert you."

Just as Zalan had promised, Gala had been greatly relieved by this. And once the feeling of security was there, he'd realized he didn't really think Songi would try anything anyway. It was more the _possibility_ that he was guarding against, careful person that he was.

So it was with a huge start that Gala awoke in the middle of the night a few days after his talk with Zalan, the sound of crashing metal ringing in his ears.

Like lightning, he sat up, used to waking suddenly both from his strict training in the monastery and his adventures with Vahn and Noa. He glanced automatically towards the room Songi was staying in, and sure enough saw the young man sprawled on the floor, having tripped on the pieces of metal. More than Zalan had intended, probably, but still beneficial, at least for Gala.

In the darkness lit only by a few small candles along the wall, Songi's expression looked dazed and surprised. As though he had some kind of sixth sense, he looked up and saw Gala staring straight at him. Quickly, he scrambled to his feet and seemed about to bolt towards the door.

"Don't move!" Gala cried, springing from the sofa and attempting to corner him. Songi was too fast for him though. In an instant, he'd run past Gala, thrown open the front door, and darted out into the night.

Gala, stopping only to step into his shoes, gave chase, not even bothering to close Zalan's door behind him. He ran outside and caught sight of Songi about fifty meters ahead of him, and hurriedly made after him. He'd initially hoped Songi would've been too stupid and incompetent to put on his own shoes, making it easy to catch up to him, but he quickly realized that this was a futile hope; the guy could be pretty smart when he put his mind to it.

Gala stopped thinking and put all his efforts into following his target. Songi had always been a good runner, and Gala had rarely been able to catch him when they'd played chasing games as kids, back when they'd been friends. If the older man had been at full strength, Gala wouldn't have had a hope of catching him. Luckily though, Songi's wound was undoubtedly paining him enough to keep him from running at full-speed, and it was logical to assume that he wouldn't be able to keep even that up for long.

They ran almost a full circle around the small town of Jeremi so that, in the end, they were back near Zalan's house, only around a quarter of a mile away from it. Gala hadn't bothered yelling out to Songi again. He knew he wasn't going to stop, no matter what he said, and anyway he didn't want to disturb the sleeping townspeople.

Suddenly, with a sharp cry of pain, Songi fell to his knees, his hands clutching his bandaged torso. As Gala quickly caught up with him, he noticed blood trickling out from between his hands, staining the bandages and shirt covering it. The still-healing wound had clearly opened again. In the dim light provided by the few oil lamps in the street, Gala saw that Songi's face was white, and his lips were trembling slightly. But Gala didn't feel sorry for him at all. On the contrary, he was almost glad to see him suffer.

"Songi," he panted, stopping to stand over him, "you miserable bastard."

Songi, despite his obvious pain, tried to smirk.

"You actually trusted me?" he said, the mocking edge in his voice almost disguising the pain. Gala looked back down at him in disgust, but he was too tired to feel much yet.

"Not completely, obviously," he said, "but I was beginning to. You would've done better to wait until I actually did. You would've had a better chance then. But you've always been impatient."

"It's not like I'm..." A short hiss of pain and a deep, shuddering breath. "It's not like I'm running away to go and kill people or anything. I just want-"

"You're not running away period," Gala interrupted him coldly. The casualness with with Songi mentioned killing people sickened him. "I told you that. And I told you what would happen if you tried to run from me."

Gala had hoped to see fear in Songi's face at these words, but that infuriating smirk never left it.

"So, what? You're gonna beat me up?" he said sarcastically. "Go ahead."

Gala's fists clenched. He had to restrain himself from doing just that. Unnervingly quickly, anger was beginning to fill him, replacing the fatigue. He seemed to be getting angry a lot more easily these days. Songi laughed shortly, though still undoubtedly in a great deal of pain.

"That's what I thought. You-"

Not even thinking, Gala drew back his fist and punched him with all his might, right in his infuriatingly sneering face. His fist hit his left cheek, and Songi fell roughly in the opposite direction. Gala drew back, expecting to want to hit him more, but the rage had left him almost as soon as it'd come, leaving only a bitter kind of emptiness in its wake.

"Not bad," Songi muttered, slowly sitting up. He wouldn't allow himself to finger the large, swelling bruise now emerging on his cheek, even though it must've hurt. Gala sighed and said, in a very tired kind of voice:

"Come on. Let's go back to Zalan's."

Obediently, not having the strength to refuse, Songi rose and awkwardly stood. His open, bleeding wound was still causing him a lot of pain, probably even more than the lingering sting of Gala's strike was. He tried to hold in a moan of agony, but it still slipped out. Despite everything, Gala felt himself feeling _some_ sympathy. He stepped forward to help support him.

Songi, clearly hating himself for it, allowed Gala to take some of his weight and help him back to Zalan's house, towards the still-open door. Once inside, Gala took him back to his room, stepping carefully over the invaluable scraps of metal still lying all over the floor, and roughly dumped Songi onto his bed. The man gasped hard as his injury was strained by his landing, and he glared at Gala's already-retreating back.

Gala was relieved to find that Zalan was awake too, probably alerted by all the noise. As much as he'd wished they hadn't disturbed the jeweller, Gala still felt grateful he was there. He wasn't nearly as good with medical practices as Zalan was, and he certainly wouldn't have gone to him if he'd still been asleep. He and Songi - especially Songi - had burdened the poor man enough already.

Zalan, his eyes puffy with sleep, reacted as expected when he followed Gala into the room and saw Songi: There was blood leaking through his bandages, and he was lying back on the bed with a pale, strained face. Zalan gaped for a moment, then rushed from the room to fetch his medical supplies, returning less than a minute later. No one said anything as he knelt down beside the injured man and, after thrusting a small handful of Jigul grass into his hands, began removing the bloodstained bandages.

Songi, aside from forcing himself to swallow the numbing medicine, didn't move as Zalan cleaned, treated and re-dressed his wound. His eyes were closed, but he didn't look nearly as bad as he had the last time. His face was pale, but it wasn't the unnerving chalk-white it had been then. Gala thought his injury didn't seem too serious, and when he was finally done tending to it, it appeared Zalan agreed.

"It's not too bad," he said, still sounding a little tired. "He dislodged one of my stitches, but I've replaced it. I've also put some medicine on it so he won't get infected."

Standing up, clearly eager to get back to bed, Zalan muttered to Gala under his breath:

"I'll help you put the metal scraps back outside."

Gala nodded, grateful. He turned to follow the jeweller out of the room, but before he did, he looked at Songi. The red-head now had his eyes slightly open and was giving him a sleepy but mocking smirk.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Gala said. "You're lucky you didn't hurt yourself more than you did."

Songi laughed weakly.

"No, you took care of that for me, didn't you? You can really hit hard when you want to."

Gala scowled and walked out, not bothering to reply. Zalan was waiting for him outside, and together the two set back up the bits of scrap-metal that had worked so well. They were silent as they worked. Zalan wasn't mentioning the ugly mark on Songi's face, but he'd undoubtedly seen it. He'd probably guessed at its cause too, and whatever he once might've thought, it wasn't likely he believed his two guests were friends with each other now.

When they were done, they went back into the main room of the house. Gala lifted the blanket he'd been using and put it back on the sofa. Zalan watched him for a few seconds, his brow creased. Finally, he said:

"Gala, I'm sorry if I sound intrusive, but..."

Gala flinched, knowing what was coming. Of course, he couldn't expect Zalan not to be curious now. He'd taken in Songi as happily as he'd done him because he'd believed he was Gala's friend. An awkward, passive-aggressive friend perhaps, but a friend nonetheless. Now that he realized they weren't friends, he was well within his rights to know just what Songi was to Gala. The problem was, Gala didn't really know himself.

"Just what is going on with you and Songi?" Zalan went on carefully. "I assumed he was a friend of yours, but you two are acting more like..."

_Mortal enemies?_ Gala thought, resisting the urge to laugh bitterly.

"He _was_ my friend, a while ago," he said after a moment. "But we..."

Gala stopped. He wasn't sure what Zalan's reaction would be if he told him Songi had been an avid supporter of the Mist that had terrorized Jeremi for so long. After all, that same Mist had kept Zalan from his son for ten years and taken his wife from him forever. At the very least, he'd almost certainly not want Songi in his house anymore. But then, Gala thought suddenly, he didn't really want to be in this house any longer either. It wasn't in his nature to throw his problems on people, especially strangers, and he and Songi had already been staying with Zalan for over a week.

"We won't stay here anymore. I'll find somewhere else," Gala said decidedly. "We've burdened you enough."

Zalan started to protest, as Gala had known he would, but he stopped him before he could get too far.

"I know you're fine with it, Zalan, but I'm not. Please..."

Zalan hesitated. It could not be more obvious that he would've been willing to take in twenty people if Gala had asked him to. But upon seeing the firm, decided look on the young man's face, Zalan evidentially realized there was no changing his mind.

"There are quite a few empty houses in Jeremi," Zalan said tentatively instead. "Ever since..."

He stopped, looking down. He didn't have to remind Gala that Jeremi had been under the tyranny of the Mist for ten long years. Many of the town's citizens had been killed in the initial takeover by the maddened Seru. As a result, there were still quite a few of uninhabited houses in the village. Gala didn't much like the idea of living in the houses of people who had fallen victim to such a horrible fate, but he liked the idea of continuing to burden Zalan even less.

"I'm sure no one would mind if you took one, considering all you've done for this village," Zalan said. "And you can..." He hesitated. "...Take some of my metal scraps with you, if you need them."

"Thank you," Gala said, nodding gratefully. He wasn't sure if Songi would fall for the same trick twice, but it was a lot better than nothing.

"But you should probably wait a few days," Zalan said. "It wouldn't be a good idea for Songi to walk straight away."

Gala felt a reluctant twinge of concern that he immediately tried to suppress.

"Walking to a house nearby won't open up that wound again, will it?" he asked.

"Not if you're slow and careful, but he'll be in a lot of pain if you do it tomorrow."

Gala's concern melted away, and he suddenly found himself feeling nothing but hatred and betrayal. Hell, he'd begun to half-trust the guy, even to consider he was capable of change.

Songi had actually _cried_ in front of him, something he'd never done with him or anyone else in the monastery since they'd first been brought there. But what if he'd only done that to use him, to gain his trust so he'd be able to ditch him more quickly? The crying, even the regret in general, had been very unlike him. And he'd always been very good at manipulating people, especially when he'd gotten that Sim Ra-Seru. Gala had to wonder now, not for the first time, if the influence of that evil thing hadn't left Songi completely unscathed.

"That was his fault," Gala said coldly, breaking the short silence that had fallen. "Maybe the pain will make him think twice before trying to run off again. This is the second time he's done it, and I'm getting sick of it. I'm sure you are, too."

He sounded harsh, and he knew it. But he didn't care. All he knew right then was that the idea of Songi suffering was a very pleasant prospect.

And to think, before all this, before Songi had betrayed the monastery, Gala had never even _wished_ suffering upon another human being, let alone _inflicted_ it.

**Songi, you douche. D: Yeah, I'm willing to bet Songi was a lot more in-character in this chapter, right? XD Poor Gala. He has the patience of a saint.**

**I hope this chapter didn't seem too pointless, since basically I just spent six pages explaining why Gala and Songi won't be staying with Zalan anymore. But hopefully the character interaction between them was okay. I like to think Gala would've snapped under these circumstances and struck Songi. And to be honest, the guy... kind of deserved it. XD**


	7. Chapter 7

**Well, here's chapter 7! This fic is really coming along! I'm so happy! ^_^ I'm glad to say that this chapter contains a lot of Gala/Songi interaction. These two are just too adorable together! :3**

**Also, I'd like to thank Barako for BETA'ing this chapter for me. It really eased my paranoia of having to proofread my own chapters, like, a dozen times. XD Thanks, fellow Songi-fangirl! ^^**

**I'd also like to thank Hikari No Aijou for giving me advice on shortening some of my sentences. I often forget what it's like for other people reading my work, so I didn't realize how straining some of my longer sentences could be. XD**

_Chapter 7_

Gala awoke a few hours later, still exhausted. He'd barely gotten any sleep. He'd been too busy worrying about what would happen when he finally did get up. Blearily he shrugged his blanket away and forced himself up from the sofa. It was barely past dawn, but he didn't want to stay in Zalan's house any longer. Besides, the sofa was incredibly uncomfortable as a bed.

Gala had already gotten directions from Zalan the previous night for a good, free house in the village. It wasn't too far away, which meant Songi would be able to walk there without too many problems. Thus, there was no reason to stay in this place any longer.

Walking quietly so as not to wake Zalan or his son, Gala made his way to Songi's room, carefully clearing aside the replaced metal scraps as he did so. He had no plan to take them with him, despite Zalan's offer. Songi wasn't dumb enough to fall for the same trick twice. Gala would have to think of something else.

When he walked into the room, the first thing Gala saw was Songi sprawled out under the bed sheets, asleep. He was using an elbow to pillow his head, and his eyebrows were slightly creased, as though the newly-opened wound around his torso was still causing him pain. The purple-black mark now gleaming on his left cheek was particularly noticeable, almost like it was illuminated from behind the skin. His breathing was slow and rhythmic, sleep probably being the only time it ever was.

Gala couldn't help noting, even though he was still furious with him, how uncharacteristically innocent Songi looked when he was asleep. For the last several years, Gala had been so accustomed to seeing nothing but arrogance, greed and hatred on his face. In sleep though, it seemed to have been completely wiped away, and now the only clearly-visible emotion there was fatigue.

But then Gala remembered the previous night and, even more, all the things that had happened before that. He remembered what kind of person Songi really was, and his heart hardened.

Roughly, he reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, shaking him. Songi stirred almost straight away and blinked up at Gala, his eyes heavily-shadowed.

"What?" he asked.

The surprise on his face was almost immediately replaced by annoyance. Gala let go of his shoulder.

"We're going. Get up."

Songi surveyed him in confusion for a moment.

"'Going?'" he repeated.

"There's a free house in Jeremi. We're going to stay there."

Songi looked taken aback.

"Now? But I'm..." He stopped. He had too much pride now to say the words, "I'm in pain," but they were clearly implied. Gala was unmoved.

"That's your damn fault, isn't it?" he said, echoing his words to Zalan the previous night. "Get up."

Immediately, Songi's eyes narrowed, and he glared at the brunet.

"Go to hell, you stupid oaf. You can't make me do anything."

"You want to bet on it, murderer?"

Even afterwards, Gala didn't know what had made him say it. The way Songi's face whitened so that it was even paler than usual, the way he gaped at Gala in disbelief and anger for several stunned seconds, made it all seem worth it right then.

"You... You bastard," Songi muttered, staring at him with hatred.

"Songi," Gala said, as calmly as he could, "you still feel that mark on your cheek, right? Well, that was a picnic compared to what I'll do to you if you don't get out of that bed right now."

Gala had never been a violent person, one intent on hurting others, but right then he almost felt like he could've murdered Songi himself. It wasn't a pleasant thought.

Songi scowled furiously but kicked away his sheets, then slowly and carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stopped short of putting his feet on the floor though, instead fixing his eyes on Gala's. Despite his own anger, Gala couldn't help but feel a little intimidated by the amount of loathing in his eyes.

"When I'm stronger, I'll make you pay for this," Songi said quietly.

Gala's feeling of intimidation faded, and he glared back at Songi with just as much ferocity as he was receiving.

"Well, you're not strong now, are you? So you'd better just shut up and do as I say until then."

Songi looked for a moment like he wanted to spit. That was an annoying habit he'd adopted around his fifteenth birthday - spitting on the ground when he was particularly pissed off at someone. It had irritated Gala almost as much as it had the ever-neat Maya, who had all but begged him to give it up. Although, such reactions were probably part of the reason he did it.

Luckily however, Songi seemed to think his hatred for Gala was too furious to be expressed in this way. He stood up, using both hands to push himself up from the bed, and stood swaying a little, leaning slightly to one side with a hand clutching his bandaged torso.

Even through his lingering anger, Gala instinctively moved forward to help support him, as he'd done the previous night. But unlike then, Songi drew hastily back from him, practically snarling.

"Don't touch me!" he snapped.

Gala shrugged and turned away.

"Suit yourself."

They walked out of the bedroom and back into the main room of the house, Songi a little unsteadily. Gala had been dreading having to rouse Zalan to tell him they were leaving, but luckily the jeweller was already awake and just emerging from his own room, if a little sluggishly. He stopped when he saw them and smiled.

"Good morning, Gala, Songi."

"Good morning," Gala replied formally. Songi grunted and reached out a hand to steady himself against the wall.

"I suppose you're going," Zalan said, a little sadly. "You remember where the house is, right? There should be some food there already, but if there isn't, feel free to come here for some."

"Oh, that's all right," Gala said, returning his smile with effort. "Vahn, Noa and I accumulated plenty of money on our quest, and my third should easily be enough to sustain us for a while."

Zalan looked uncertain, like he wished he could've found something else to offer him, but after a moment he nodded obediently.

"Very well. Then, I guess this is goodbye."

"Yes." Gala held out his hand, and Zalan shook it warmly. "Goodbye, Zalan. Thank you so much for letting us stay here, and I'm sorry for all the trouble."

Letting go of Zalan's hand, Gala looked beside him at Songi, who was now leaning slightly against the wall. Gala gave him a hard look, silently demanding him to thank and apologize to their host too, especially since he'd caused most of the trouble Gala had just referred to. But Songi kept stubbornly silent, not looking at either of them. Typical.

"Not at all," Zalan said, after a somewhat awkward pause. "I'm honored to be able to help you, Gala. If you ever need anything, my door will always be open to you."

"Thank you," Gala said again. He looked back to Zalan, trying to hide his annoyance at Songi. "And please give my regards to Pepe as well."

"I certainly will," Zalan said. He hesitated, looking at the glowering man beside Gala. Finally, he added: "You take care too, Songi."

Songi, with what seemed like a huge effort, managed to push himself away from the wall and stand on his own two feet. Gala was rather surprised to hear him answer in something that could've almost passed for a respectful tone.

"You, too. Thanks."

They left Zalan's in silence, Songi limping noticeably. Gala felt quite a bit less angry with him now, owing mostly to the fact that, whatever he'd seemed, Songi did at least appear grateful for Zalan's hospitality.

As they made their way slowly to the new house, Gala had to stop himself several times from offering to help support Songi, whose steps were pained and unsteady. He almost felt guilty for making him move when he clearly wasn't really up to it. But every time he thought of the previous night and Songi's mocking smirk, he couldn't stop the dull wave of anger that rushed over him, so he kept silent.

The free house they'd been given looked much the same as Zalan's. It was small, square and made of sturdy but rather dull-colored bricks. As they opened the door and walked in, Gala couldn't help thinking about the last people who would've lived here and what their deaths must've been like. Had it been anything like the deaths of his own mother and father? Had their bodies been charred, frozen, mangled or crushed by frenzied Seru, or had they simply been too weak to handle possession and died when the Mist first engulfed them?

The house had been mostly cleared of personal possessions, leaving only furniture and a few odds and ends remaining, but even those told stories. The rocking chair in the corner, the table and four chairs in the kitchen, the cozy hearth only a few feet away, the empty glass vase that had undoubtedly once held flowers... They all spoke to Gala of loss and waste, and he found himself having to swallow several times to dispel the large lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.

"What a dump," Songi said disdainfully, closing the door behind him with a resounding bang. "Can't we just keep staying at that guy's house?"

All Gala's softened feelings for him melted away in an instant. Aside from being such a typically callous and heartless thing to say, Songi had willingly allied himself with the monsters who had caused Jeremi's - and many others' - people to die in the first place. Besides which, he certainly wasn't acting very grateful for everything Zalan had done for them, whatever impression he'd given a few minutes ago.

"Songi," Gala said, turning to him and trying to keep calm, "just because you're used to-"

"-used to being a useless burden on people doesn't mean I, the wonderful and perfect Master Teacher, am," Songi interrupted him in a high, mocking imitation of Gala's voice. Then he added, in his normal voice: "Yes, I know. You don't have to remind me. It was always like that, wasn't it?"

Gala stopped short. Actually, other than the part about him being a perfect Master Teacher, Songi's imitated speech had been very close to what Gala had been planning to say. He glared at him.

"If you're trying to make me feel sorry for you-" Gala began, but Songi cut across him again, this time with a contemptuous laugh.

"You don't know me very well, do you? The last thing I want is your damn _pity_."

He pronounced the word 'pity' like it was some kind of disgusting food. Gala felt his face beginning to burn, but he kept willing himself not to get angry. He didn't like what anger did to him.

"If it weren't for my _pity_," - he pronounced the word the same way Songi had - "you would've been dead days ago."

"But now you're just keeping me prisoner. That's _much_ better, isn't it?"

"Because I can't be sure you won't try to do something stupid again!" Gala snapped, his voice rising.

"So what, you're gonna be my nursemaid for the rest of my life?!" Songi shouted back.

Gala had been wondering the same thing himself. Keeping constant tabs on such an unpredictable, hotheaded person for he didn't know how long wasn't exactly his idea of an ideal life.

"No," he said after a moment. "You're not important enough to waste the rest of my life on. If I get sick of this before I'm sure you've changed, I'll tell Lord Saryu what you did, and he'll have you arrested."

Songi's face paled considerably, and he looked both outraged and terrified at the same time.

"Y-You idiot!" he spluttered. "They'd kill me!"

Gala shrugged. He had no doubt Songi was right. He had committed unforgivable crimes, and it was doubtful any authoritative figure would excuse him for them. The three lords of Legaia - King Drake, Lord Saryu and Emperor Etora VIII - all owed Gala and his companions a huge debt for everything they'd done for them and their kingdoms, but even this probably wouldn't save Songi if he was caught. Besides which, Vahn and Noa were, understandably, very unlikely to want to speak in his favor.

With a slight chill, Gala remembered the words his two friends had exchanged just as they and Songi had come back from the dying Seru-kai.

_"But what are we going to do if he tries anything again?"_

_"Kill him."_

Gala made himself drop that thought though. Despite what he'd said, he had no intention of informing Lord Saryu or anyone else what Songi had done, and he hoped fervently that Vahn and Noa wouldn't either. Honestly, if it came to it, if he _did_ end up having to take action to stop Songi from hurting others, Gala didn't know how he'd handle it. Or even _if_ he'd be able to.

But he certainly wasn't going to admit that to him and lose the leverage he'd gained. Songi would be less likely to disobey him if he thought his life was on the line, at least for a while.

"Then convince me that you've changed," Gala said instead. Songi looked very close to driving a fist into the nearest wall.

"How the _hell_ am I supposed to do that?!"

"Not trying to run away in the middle of the night might be a good start."

"Gala, what is it going to take?!" Songi sounded close to pleading. "I... I cried my eyes out in front of you!"

Gala stared back at him, lost for words. It had been the first time Songi had brought up what had happened under that arch since it had happened. It was also the first time in several days he'd actually called Gala by name.

"I cried my eyes out," Songi said again, more quietly this time. "I... I seriously considered suicide for a few hours there."

Gala started. That, he hadn't known. Songi had mentioned something about wishing he would die if he knew it didn't hurt so much, but Gala hadn't paid it much attention. He'd had no idea it had ever gone beyond that.

An unbidden image crept into Gala's mind then; an image of himself, back at that arch, finding Songi as he had on that day. Only instead of finding him huddled and sobbing, the Gala in his mind found nothing but a cold, lifeless mass, its chest pierced and bloody, its eyes fixed, a small knife clutched in its stiff right hand.

Luckily, he was dragged forcefully out of this horrible vision before it could go any further by Songi's voice, once again raised to a near-shout.

"What more do you want from me, Gala?! I'm _sorry_!"

With some surprise, Gala realized this was the only time Songi had apologized directly for what he'd done. And he seemed so... sincere. But then, he'd seemed sincere before too, when he'd, as Songi called it, cried his eyes out. And what had he done after that? Tried to run, despite Gala telling him not to. There was simply no way of knowing what this man was capable of.

"You could've been manipulating me, Songi," Gala said impassively. "How would I know? I have no idea what kind of damage that... _thing_ did to you."

"It's _gone_ now! You and those kids destroyed it!"

"That doesn't mean it couldn't have done something to you," Gala said, unmoved. "Besides..."

Gala hesitated, but Songi realized what he'd been going to say. All the lingering signs of fear and adjuration dropped away, and he glared at the former Master Teacher with pure loathing.

"Besides, I probably would've killed people anyway, even if I hadn't found that thing?" Songi finished, his lips curving into a bitter smile. "Go ahead, Gala, say it. You were thinking it. Because drugging you at a tournament is definitely the same thing as-"

"It wasn't just that," Gala interrupted him quickly. He couldn't bear to hear Songi talk about what he'd done again. "You... changed. You became so cruel and jealous and... awful. And it wasn't even for a good reason. You were jealous of _me_."

Songi shrugged and began to turn away, probably planning to leave the conversation altogether. Gala, seized by a sudden, fierce desperation to make him listen, reached out and grabbed his shoulder. Songi stopped short but didn't turn back around. The hand Gala was resting on his shoulder dropped limply back down to his side. He swallowed several times, trying to get rid of the lump still sitting in his throat.

"God, Songi, your father was _killed_ in front of you! If anything should've changed you, it should've been _that_, not some stupid grudge against me!"

But even as he spoke, Gala wasn't so sure. At the sacred ruins of the Uru Mais, the gate to the Seru-kai, Vahn, Noa and Gala had been made to relive their deepest regrets through dream-like memories. In the end, Vahn and Noa had both ended up sharing their memories, though Gala hadn't been able to bring himself to. He'd been too ashamed.

Vahn had dreamed about his mother, Nora's, death when she'd given birth to his younger sister, Nene. In his desperate attempts to save her, he'd ventured outside the safe confines of his village, and his father, Val, had been crippled by Seru while trying to save him.

Noa had dreamed about her parents and older brother, Cort, all of whom had been of the royal family in the ruined city of Conkram. As they'd learned later, Conkram's war with another large city, Sol, had driven Cort to researching ways to better manipulate the Seru, and this had eventually led to the creation of the Mist. Noa's mother, desperate to protect her daughter from Conkram's impending fate, had sent Noa away with a trusted Soren, where she'd eventually been found and taken in by the Ra-Seru Terra.

Gala had expected to dream about the time his village was attacked by Seru and his parents were killed, while he hid in the small basement they'd left him in. He'd certainly thought that was the biggest regret of his life; he'd obediently followed his parents' orders to hide while they tried to defend their village, defend _him_, and lost his only family as a result. He'd even begun to prepare himself, as much as one could, for that memory.

But instead of his parents or his village, he'd seen something completely different...

**Kind of an abrupt cutoff, but the next several pages are one huge flashback (three guesses on what the flashback will contain XD). So, I thought now was as good a time as any to break off. The flashback sequence will easily be long enough to be its own chapter. ^^**

**I hope Gala and Songi seemed in-character in this chapter. As you can see, Songi is getting very frustrated with Gala, and (spoiler-alert) he hasn't forgiven him for hitting him in that last chapter either. ;D**


	8. Chapter 8

**Holy crap, this chapter is LONG! :O Once again, thanks to Barako for BETA'ing it for me! ^^**

**As you probably guessed, this chapter covers the flashback of Songi screwing over Gala, as seen in-game at the Uru Mais. Of course, my version contains a lot more rambling and angst, as well as a few other changes. ;D**

**Also, as most of my readers know, I extended the role of one of the NPCs in Legend of Legaia, namely the healer who gives Songi the Jigul grass and (possibly) the same healer who asks about him many times throughout the game. I liked the idea of giving Songi a girlfriend while he was in the monastery, since it means he won't be such a n00b when he and Gala realize their feelings for each other. I'm totally worried that I made the healer seem like a self-insert for me, but that honestly wasn't what I was going for at all. I just wanted to make things more interesting and dramatic, not to mention see Songi in the role of a terrible, manipulative boyfriend. XD**

_Chapter 8_

"Gala must be the strongest in all of Biron!"

"He has to be! Songi can train all he wants, but he could never match Gala's spiritual strength!"

"Silence! It's Master Zopu!"

The small group of whispering monks immediately stopped talking and turned to face the statue of Biron in the front of the training room.

Around a dozen of the monastery's residents, all powerful warriors, were standing neatly in small horizontal lines. Every one of them was strongly built and dressed in traditional monk clothing, but the two most noticeable figures stood at the very front, closest to the god's statue.

Gala and Songi looked much different than they had when they'd first been brought to the Biron Monastery over eight years before. Then, they'd been frail, grieving children, too weak to stand up to most boys their own age, let alone take on an accomplished monk. Now though, Gala, sixteen, and Songi, seventeen, both looked and were powerful enough to defeat opponents who had more than twice their years in experience.

Both teens had heard their fellow monks' whispers, or at least parts of them, and it was clear to see they were affected. Gala looked uncomfortable and guilty. Songi, although he hid it well, looked like he wanted to pummel every last one of them, then Gala for good measure. His fists were clenched, and he was breathing a little faster than the muscle-relaxing rituals of Biron had taught him.

Master Zopu walked slowly into the room, his robe billowing behind him, and stood facing his students. His face was naturally grim but kind, and there was a definite fondness in his eyes as he surveyed the monks before him - particularly the brunet and red-head.

"Eight years have passed since the Mist covered the earth!" Master Zopu said in his loud, authoritative voice. "These are difficult times, but..." His gaze lingered briefly on Gala and Songi, then quickly moved away again. "I am pleased at how hard each of you is devoting yourself to your training."

There was a low murmur of a appreciation throughout the assembled monks, but the two at the front kept silent.

"Now, as you all know, tomorrow is Biron's Transmigration Festival," Master Zopu said, "and as always, we will hold the ritual tournament. Gala!"

Gala did not flinch at the sudden barking of his name, as he was well used to it, and merely bowed respectfully.

"Yes, Master Zopu!"

"Songi!" Master Zopu said.

Songi, unlike everyone else in the room, had been slouching slightly before now. But when the old man addressed him, he too stood at attention, and all the slight signs of anger in his face were instantly and professionally masked.

"Yes, Master Zopu!"

"As monks of Biron, there are things expected of you. You must fight with all your skills in order to make this a chivalrous tournament," Master Zopu said.

They both bowed again.

"Yes, sir!"

Gala and Songi had just completed the middle level of Biron's training that year. Though they were easily the strongest two in the monastery, the training methods of Biron did not allow shortcuts; a warrior had to train for a minimum of seven years before he could enter the elite training level, and even then they could still fail. In fact, less than twenty-five percent of the eligible candidates had yet succeeded in making it to the elite level, and very few of those had done so on their first try. Although, no one had really believed Gala and Songi would have any trouble, and sure enough, they hadn't; they'd both passed into the elite level with flying colors and were due to start training there the following week.

In this level, monks were required to participate in the ritual tournament, which was held every year on the day of Biron's Transmigration Festival. The tournament was not an aggressive one, but more a way of testing one's fighting skills against one's fellow pupils.

However, this year was a little different. This year, the old Master Teacher had succumbed to an illness, leaving the post blank. The Master Teacher was the second-to-highest-ranking person in the monastery, and the one who would teach most of the monks from then on. Only elite-ranking warriors were allowed to apply for the post, which involved teaching and supervising the lower- and middle-ranking monks while Master Zopu taught only the best.

Gala knew for a fact that Songi had wanted the rank of Master Teacher dearly ever since the post had opened up, and probably for a while before that as well. He wasn't an evil person, and Gala had liked... no, _still_ liked him very much. But the younger teen had to admit to himself that the idea of Songi in a position of power and authority did not appeal to him in the least. He didn't particularly want the post himself - he'd much rather learn than teach - but he doubted such a position would corrupt him, the way he was sure it would Songi.

"That is enough training for today," Master Zopu said, giving his two best students a rare smile. "Time to begin your individual tasks!"

The monks all bowed and began to disperse. Gala made to follow them but was stopped by a powerful hand gripping his arm. He turned around and was rather surprised to see Songi. They hadn't been talking much lately outside of increasingly heated arguments. Often it pained Gala to look at the person he'd once been so close to, but he'd been trying to think less about it as of late. It always seemed so hard when he was face to face with him though...

"Hey, Gala! That ritual tournament is such a drag, eh?" Songi said once everyone else had left the room. He let go of Gala's arm and stood back, looking disdainfully up at the statue of Biron before shifting his attention back to his companion.

Gala didn't say anything. He wasn't sure what he could say that wouldn't lead to another argument. The last thing he wanted was to start getting depressed again right before the tournament.

Songi surveyed Gala irritably, looking right into his face for the first time in months.

"Hey, I don't like that look in your eyes!"

He spat onto the floor at the brunet's feet, and Gala pressed his lips together to stop himself from reprimanding him. It didn't help that Songi was an excellent spitter. Powerful lungs, a powerful throat and a powerful jaw could hardly lead to anything else.

And just what was he talking about with the 'look' in his eyes? Gala didn't have a look, at least as far as he knew.

"No, I-"

"To hell with you!" Songi interrupted scornfully. "I'm not stupid! I can tell by that look in your eyes!" He grunted and turned away again, then seemed to reconsider. Facing Gala again, he put on a very forced smile and said: "Ah, forget it. Let's just have ourselves a good time tomorrow, all right?"

He laughed shortly and walked away before Gala could answer, although truth be told he had no idea what to say to this bizarre display of behavior, much less what to make of it.

ZzZzZzZ

"But, Songi! Tomorrow is the tournament! If you take unconcentrated Jigul grass, your body will go numb, and you won't be able to fight!"

Etha the healer stood uncertainly next to the medicine cabinet in the monastery's kitchen, staring up at the man she'd been dating for the last couple of weeks. Songi stood in front of her, a sulky expression on his face.

Their relationship hadn't gone too far, mostly because Etha was unwilling to break the celibate laws of the monastery. Songi would've been happy to, but he didn't really care much either way. Etha had been the one who'd asked him to accompany her to that stupid Biron celebration, not the other way around. And he'd really only agreed to keep company with her because he'd been half-afraid she'd turn to Gala if he didn't. That was what everyone else seemed to do, after all. Songi scowled.

"Mind your own business!"

Etha's face hardened, and she looked at him in poorly-concealed hurt.

"Songi, why would you talk to me like that? I'm only trying to help you. If you just have a small, concentrated dose of Jigul grass and lie down for a few hours-"

"No! I can't take this headache anymore! Besides, everyone knows that unconcentrated Jigul grass is the best thing for a headache. If I take the grass now, I'll be fine by tomorrow."

Etha's hurt look changed to one of pure exasperation.

"Songi, unconcentrated Jigul grass numbs for you at least twenty-four hours, and even after that, you're still very groggy."

"I'll risk it! Just..." Songi stopped, inhaled and made himself speak more calmly. "Please, Etha. For me? I really need this."

The healer's face softened a little, just as Songi had known it would, and she sighed wearily in defeat.

"All right, but don't blame me if things go wrong."

Etha reached into the cabinet and took out a small dose of unconcentrated Jigul grass. The stuff was extremely powerful, really only meant to be used to numb extreme pain. She knew from her many years of being the monastery's healer that, if Songi took this medicine, he would be out for at least two days, maybe even longer depending on how sleepy he felt. But she'd tried to warn him, and he hadn't listened. Maybe experience was the only way he'd learn.

She placed the Jigul grass gently in his hand, and Songi's face lighting up in a grateful smile as she did made it seem almost worth it. The way he looked when he smiled like that, so gentle and undisturbed, had been the main reason she'd asked him to date her. She knew there was a much kinder, more likable person underneath everything else, because she saw hints of it all the time.

"Songi, do you want water?" she asked, letting go of his hand.

"No, I'm going to take this after I go back to my room. Thanks, Etha."

Songi leaned forward and touched his lips briefly to hers before drawing back and leaving the room. The sensation of warmth and pleasure this left in Etha kept her from realizing the significance of Songi's words for a good thirty seconds, but once she did, she gasped.

ZzZzZzZ

"Oh, Gala. This is so embarrassing, but... I was afraid that you'd beat me today, and... I knew I shouldn't, but I took Fury Boosts to help me fight better."

It was the day after Songi's meeting with Etha, and he'd just taken Gala aside into one of the monastery's empty training rooms. The ritual tournament was due to start in under ten minutes, and almost everyone had gone into the main hall to either watch or participate.

Songi smiled broadly at Gala in almost the exact same way he often had when they'd been best friends.

"But as soon as I took them, I started feeling guilty! I hated myself."

Gala looked at him doubtfully. When had Songi ever talked like this? He'd never given even the slightest impression that he hated himself. Other people, yes; him, yes; but never himself. If Songi sensed his companion's doubt though, he did a very good job of hiding it.

"So here!" he said, holding out his hand to him. "You take a Fury Boost too!"

Gala looked into Songi's palm and saw what appeared to be a Fury Boost. He made no attempt to reach out and take the stamina-boosting drug though.

"But why?"

It was so unlike Songi to be admitting to cheating. It wasn't like he hadn't done it before, or at least had been suspected of doing so, but he'd never come clean about it. But his levels of deception had ever reached _this_ level. Could Etha have really been...

"This is a contest, so we gotta be fair, right?" Songi said. That smile never wavered. "And I want this to be a fair fight. So go ahead, take it!"

"Well, I don't know..."

Gala hesitated.

_Do you really trust him? The way he's been acting these past few months..._

Gala looked at Songi, standing so close in front of him, a bold, open smile on his face. He hadn't seen him smile at him, or _anyone_, in such a way for so long. It made a great improvement to his overall appearance; Songi had always been handsome, but when he smiled like that, he often looked downright radiant. Not that Gala thought in those exact terms, but...

He made up his mind: He would trust Songi over Etha, even though every fiber of his better judgement was telling him this was a bad idea. He would trust in the Songi he knew, the Songi who had been his best friend practically ever since they'd both arrived in this place, the Songi he so desperately missed.

Ignoring all the warning alarms sounding in his head, Gala made an effort to return Songi's smile.

"All right! I'll do it!"

Not even stopping to take a closer look at the Fury Boost to see if it was genuine, Gala took the object and swallowed it whole.

It was mostly flavorless, but it also had a somewhat bitter aftertaste. Unfortunately, this was a shared characteristic of both Fury Boosts and... other things. The only way to know what it really was would be to wait.

Songi laughed and clapped the younger man roughly on the back. It was strikingly reminiscent of old times past. Gala wasn't sure if he should dare to begin to hope though.

"Pretty good!" Songi grinned, stepping back. "You just gulped that right down! I guess the Great Gala really is good at everything."

"Songi, I told you to stop calling me that."

"Fine, fine." Songi laughed. "Well anyway, let's go. We don't wanna be late."

ZzZzZzZ

The stage for the tournament had been set, quite literally. A large platform had been erected in the middle of the main training room, with all the spectators gathered eagerly around it.

The rules of the tournament were simple. It was single-elimination with eight fighters, all the best elites in the monastery. In the first round, the fighters were paired with those closest to their level in order to make things as fair as possible. Naturally, Gala and Songi, easily the two strongest participants, were paired together straight away.

"Gala! Songi! Are you ready?"

Master Zopu's voice rang out over the eager chattering of the spectators, and all went silent almost immediately. The two young monks, standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder save for the inch or so Songi had on Gala, bowed in the traditional Biron fashion and stepped up onto the platform. There they faced each other, expressionless, as they'd been taught.

Gala hadn't been looking forward to this at all. He and Songi already sparred as part of their training, and it was uncomfortable enough to look him in the eye after beating him then, let alone in front of so many people.

Maybe if the ways of Biron didn't mean so much to Gala, he would've considered losing to Songi on purpose. He would've done almost anything to stop those hate-filled glares he always received during and after their spars. But Gala couldn't do that, and he doubted the older teen would fall for such a trick even if he would.

But now... Now Gala had even more to worry about. Because either Songi had felt bad enough about giving himself an unfair advantage to confide in and help Gala, in which case beating him would be even more unbearable than ever, or else Songi had...

"In praise of the great benevolence and miracles of Biron, we hold this ritual tournament!" Master Zopu said.

Most of the spectators cheered. They were clearly eager to see a match against the two strongest members of the monastery aside from Master Zopu.

Near the front of the crowd though, Maya looked worried as the two boys who were like sons to her faced each other in their individual fighting stances. They'd once been so close, and now they hardly spoke. Participating in this tournament, not to mention competing for the title of Master Teacher, probably wouldn't do anything to help restore their friendship either.

Nearby, Etha surveyed the opponents closely, biting her lip. Under normal circumstances, she would've been cheering for Songi, even though she respected Gala a lot as well, but she couldn't bring herself to now. Like Gala, she wanted to trust Songi, but unlike him, she didn't think she could. She knew how much jealousy he had for the brunet, and she knew he wasn't above doing unorthodox things to get what he wanted. And Gala hadn't even taken her warning seriously...

"Let the tournament begin!" Master Zopu shouted.

One of the other monks banged a huge gong, signaling the start of the fight. Gala and Songi were now free to go all-out against each other, free to finally prove, once and for all, who was the better fighter.

But Gala didn't move. He couldn't. His head was spinning, which meant the whole room was spinning. There were bright, flashing colors in front of his eyes, and his entire body suddenly felt too heavy to be supported by his legs. He would've said he felt drunk, if not for the fact that his mind was still perfectly unclouded.

In front of him, Songi's face swam in and out of view. He was just barely concealing a smirk, but even without that, Gala knew.

_Songi betrayed me._

"What's the matter, Gala?" Songi said. He was a terrible actor, and he probably knew it. The bit was really only for the benefit of everyone else. None of them would suspect him, except maybe Etha, and she wasn't about to rat him out.

"Are you scared? Fight me! Come on, Gala!"

He had never sounded so cruel, so gleeful to see a fellow human being suffering.

Gala groaned, swaying on his feet. The next second, he felt a sharp, agonizing smack to the back of his head. Songi had gotten behind him and delivered a fierce, unrestrained blow.

Gala's condition meant that even the lightest tap probably would've downed him, but where would be the fun in that? Songi wanted to prove that he was the best, and a light tap simply wouldn't cut it.

Gala fell to the hard floor of the platform without a cry, completely senseless. In the crowd, someone called out in amazement:

"It only took a matter of seconds! Gala lost! I don't believe it!"

Songi laughed, turning from Gala's unconscious form and towards the silent, staring crowd.

"That's right! I beat Gala! Me, Songi! I win!"

He raised his hands as most of the crowd slowly and confusedly began to applaud. Maya, ignoring several of the other women trying to call her back, ran onto the stage and over to the two boys.

Songi beamed at her and held out his arms, expecting a hug. Normally it bothered him when Maya hugged him, mostly because the experience reminded him of his father, and he didn't like being reminded of him. Now though, he actually felt like he wouldn't mind.

But Maya ignored him and ran straight over to Gala, kneeling down beside him and calling his name in a concerned murmur.

Slowly, Songi lowered his arms, his smile fading. He felt very cold and numb, almost like he'd been given a dose of Jigul grass too. But when he heard the continued applauding of his fellow monks and saw Master Zopu's incredulous, amazed face, these feelings melted away, and he grinned. For the first time in a long time, he felt truly happy.

ZzZzZzZ

"Songi! You made Gala take the Jigul grass, didn't you?!"

Etha stood glaring in the doorway to the small room Songi was lounging in.

About half an hour before, Gala had been taken by stretcher to the monastery's infirmary. A fever, all the healers were saying - well, all the healers except Etha - an unexplained illness that would probably leave the patient bed-bound for several days.

The tournament was to resume in only a few hours, because Gala wasn't in any real danger. Songi was secretly glad for this; he hadn't been trying to kill him, and he never would've forgiven himself if he had. He wasn't a bad guy, really, no matter what some people said.

There would probably be questions. Not so much about whether Songi was responsible for what had happened - there was no proof, after all - but about whether or not Songi had truly 'won,' since Gala had been so out of it when they'd fought.

Songi wasn't really worried though. The rules of the ritual tournament did not cover illnesses or injuries. The best man won, and that had been Songi. Once he became Master Teacher, he wouldn't have to deal with Gala anymore, and he would easily become stronger, and more respected, than him before long.

Etha, though. She was a problem. If she kept yelling the way she was, someone might hear her and realize what had happened.

"Aw, be quiet!" Songi said impatiently, getting up from the chair he'd been sitting on and walking over to her. "How should I know what medicine he takes anyway?"

"Stop playing dumb!"

Etha looked livid. He'd never seen her so angry at anyone, least of all at him...

"You may think you've tricked Gala... But he knew! He knew all along!"

Songi returned her gaze stupidly.

"What?"

"I told him!" Etha snapped. "I told him that I gave you the Jigul grass. And I warned him not to take any medicine you gave him!"

Songi gaped at her.

"Y-You..."

He couldn't believe it. _Etha_ had betrayed him? But she was one of the only people in the monastery who really liked him, wasn't she? She was the only person who thought he was better than Gala. Even Maya and Master Zopu liked that macho moron more than they liked him.

"But Gala just laughed," Etha said. "'Oh, Songi's my best friend. Don't worry!' he said."

At these words, Songi felt an unbearable combination of hatred and guilt beginning to bubble up inside him. Each emotion was struggling to overcome the other, and it hurt. It hurt so much he could hardly stand it.

Without even replying to Etha, he turned and walked slowly out of the room. His heart was hammering against his chest like it was trying to escape him and all the things he was forcing it to feel, and he had a horrible feeling he wanted to cry. How long had it been since he'd felt like _that_? Gritting his teeth, Songi went on walking.

ZzZzZzZ

"Gala! Gala!"

Gala didn't answer him or even stir. He just kept lying in the infirmary, breathing peacefully. The healers had left him to go back to indulging themselves in the pleasures of the Transmigration Festival. Probably not very professional, even if they had confirmed that their patient was in no real danger, but it didn't matter. It meant that no one would be around to interrupt them.

Songi reached forward and roughly grabbed one of Gala's shoulders. He tried to shake him awake, actually _expected_ him to awaken, and was furious when he didn't.

"Gala! Damn it!"

He let go and backed away, breathing hard. He could not remember ever being more angry than he was now. The guilt was still there, struggling against the anger with all its might, but it was fighting a losing battle. Songi wished heartily that it would just admit defeat and leave him already, instead of making him feel as miserable and alone as he did right then.

"Gala, you think you're clever, don't you? You think you let me win! You're so arrogant! You think it's funny to make a fool of me like that? Some best friend! You hypocrite!"

Songi clenched his fists until his nails dug agonizingly into his palms. It was the only thing he could think of doing to stop himself from jumping on the unconscious man and punching him until his fists bled.

"You'll never get away with this - never! I'll crush you! Gala, I'll beat you to a pulp!"

And so saying, Songi turned and strode out of the room, never dreaming that Gala, though numb and dozing, had heard every word he'd said, or that his impassioned rant would end up haunting the brunet for years to come.

ZzZzZzZ

Etha was waiting for him right outside the infirmary.

_Oh, crap. Did she hear all that?_

Songi's fists clenched again. So what if she'd heard him? He didn't care what she thought, any more than he cared what Maya or Master Zopu thought. They'd all already shown which of them they preferred, which of them they'd much rather have as Master Teacher. So what did it matter if one more person despised him?

"I can't believe you did something so dishonorable, Songi."

Etha was looking at him in hurt bewilderment, and Songi found himself relishing it.

_Good. At least I'm not the only one suffering now._

"Clearly you can," he said evenly. "You _warned_ him about me, after all. So I guess you never trusted me either."

"'Either?'" Etha repeated in disbelief. "Gala trusted you completely! That's why he took the grass from you!"

Songi only just stopped himself from spitting at Etha's feet.

"Yeah, right," he said. "He did it to make himself look good. He thinks showing pity to someone as pathetic as everyone thinks I am will get people to like him even more than they already do."

He shouldn't have been speaking so openly, especially now when he was angry, but he couldn't help it. He'd been keeping these feelings of resentment inside him for far too long. If he kept them all there any longer, he felt he would explode.

"You idiot!" Etha shouted. "How blinded by jealousy are you?! Are you really going to let it turn you into such a horrible person?!"

Songi let out a short, humorless laugh.

"'Horrible person?' Is that what you honestly think of me, Etha? No, never mind. Of course you do. You probably only got together with me because you wanted to get closer to _him_. You're just like everyone else. You prefer that stupid oaf over me. And you have the nerve to start ranting about trust and dishonor after you blabbed to him about what I did!"

_Slap._

Etha drew her hand back from where she'd hit him and, without another word, turned on her heel and stormed off. Though Songi would never know, she didn't allow the tears forming behind her eyes to run down her cheeks until she was well out of sight.

Once she was gone, Songi slowly raised a hand and rubbed the mark on his left cheek - the exact same spot Gala would hit him later, in fact, though much harder - a small smile on his face. Damn, that girl could really hit hard. But that was okay. The pain numbed what he was really feeling, and he was absolutely fine with that.

He knew now that Etha wasn't going to keep quiet about what he'd done. She was going to tell someone, someone who mattered, and they would tell someone else, and soon everyone would know. And what would happen then?

Well... Maya would be heartbroken, Master Zopu would be disappointed and furious, and his fellow monks would probably lose most of their respect for him.

_Well, let them. I don't care what any of them think._

**Oooh, snap! Songi, feeling guilty? Well, that idea was quite fun to mess around with, since we don't really know how he felt when he realized Gala trusted him. Of course, he let anger override the guilt pretty quickly, the douche. I don't know how my idea with giving Songi a GF (that he ends up losing over this, if that wasn't already obvious XD) will be received, but I'm hoping it worked okay. Like I said, I like the idea of him having experience (though it never went **_**that**_** far xD).**

**Also, for anyone who's curious, **_**Etha**_** is pronounced **_**eh-thuh**_**. It seemed like a Legaia-ish name. I couldn't just keep calling her 'the healer,' after all. XD**


	9. Chapter 9

**Yayz! Here's chapter 9. Wow, this fic is really coming along! How many times have I said that now? XD I'm just really happy because I'm so prone to writer's blocks. :( I'm not completely happy with how this chapter turned out. I wrote it out-of-order, and I think it's a bit obvious at some points. Hopefully it's not **_**too**_** noticeable. I'll probably go back and improve it at some point in the future. Any suggestions and constructive criticism are, as usual, very welcome and encouraged. :)**

_Chapter 9_

The ways of Biron dictated that, if you learned to properly clear your mind, you could let go of all painful memories and make yourself stronger as a result. This didn't mean forgetting any people associated with a painful memory, such as one's murdered parents. It just meant you put aside the events that had caused your loved ones' deaths. You reminded yourself that they were in a better place, even if you couldn't see them.

It had taken time, but Gala had managed to suppress most of the painful thoughts regarding his parents. He knew if he kept training in the Biron arts he'd eventually be able to completely.

Songi, on the other hand... Well, it was kind of hard to forget painful memories related to a person you saw every day, especially when those painful memories had only happened around two years before. Seeing that memory at the Uru Mais hadn't meant he'd regretted losing his best friend more than he had his parents. It'd just meant that Songi meant more to him than he'd been trying to convince himself ever since that incident.

_'Gala, you did your best. You have nothing to be ashamed of. After all, even when unavoidable misfortune occurs, it is the spirit that remains in the end. So be proud of yourself!'_

The words of Tieg after Gala had seen that memory... They still hurt when he thought about them.

Because he hadn't tried his best. How could he have? If he _had_ tried his best, Songi wouldn't have become so jealous and hateful. He wouldn't have betrayed the monastery. But that didn't change the truth in Gala's words either. Songi had seemed to care more about the fact that everyone compared him with his best friend than he had about the death of his father. This was likely for similar reasons to Gala, but Songi had never trained as hard as he had. He'd probably had a much harder time forgetting what had happened to his family than the former Master Teacher.

In front of him, Gala could see Songi's pale face beginning to darken. He honestly looked only a few seconds away from flying at him, fists-first.

"Don't talk about my dad!"

Gala raised his eyebrows. In the few times he'd heard Songi talk about his father, he'd always called him 'Dad.' The term wasn't unheard of, but mostly only very young boys used it. Even at nine years old, Songi's age when the Seru had attacked their village, calling one's father that would've been a bit strange.

Beyond that, Songi seemed very... defensive. Gala had been that way about his parents in the beginning too, but eventually Maya had gotten him to talk a little about them. She, along with Biron and Master Zopu, had helped him to remember the good things about his mother and father, the things the Mist had tried to blot out. He didn't know if Maya had managed to get Songi to share memories of his father with her. Somehow he doubted it.

"We _should_ talk about it, Songi," Gala said. Really, he was practically _asking_ to be punched in the face with these words, but he didn't care. "I talked to Maya about my parents. It took a long time before I would, but I did."

Songi clenched both his fists, and Gala automatically prepared to defend himself. Instead of an attack though, he got a furious retort.

"Maya isn't here, and I don't ever want to see her again!"

Gala relaxed slightly - only slightly. Well, this wasn't exactly what he meant by 'talk,' but it was still better than nothing.

"That's your fault and your choice," Gala said. "Talk to _me_ about him. What sort of man was your father?"

"That's none of your business!"

_Damn,_ Gala thought. _I forgot how stubborn he can be..._

"He must've pampered you to no end," Gala went on relentlessly. "The way you were when Master Zopu took us in... You were used to people paying attention to you around the clock. You could hardly even boil an egg on your own at first. Did your father let you do _anything_ on your own?"

This had the desired effect, just as Gala had expected. Songi was stubborn, but he didn't tend to think about what he said if he got angry enough.

"Don't you dare talk about my dad! He was an amazing man! He cared more about me than everyone at that damned monastery put together! You don't know anything about him!"

Gala started. Hearing Songi call anyone who wasn't himself an amazing man was quite a shock. But still, no matter how amazing he'd been, Gala highly doubted the man had cared _more_ about Songi than Maya or Master Zopu. Or him.

_He was my best friend. I would've trusted him with my life. We would've died for each other once... before he changed._

Songi's expression suddenly cleared, and he smirked in that familiar, infuriating way of his. It was almost like his anger had come full circle, or it had become too great to express with even the fiercest of scowls.

"You really think I'll talk about him with you?" Songi asked in a much calmer tone. "You're basically threatening to kill me if I don't do what you say."

_I'm not doing that at all, you ignorant bastard._

"How many times did you try to kill _me_, Songi?" Gala said icily. Yes, it was a very low thing to say, but he couldn't help it. He'd always thought of himself as a very patient person, at least after he'd been taken into the monastery. But Songi could just be so... maddening. He always managed to bring out the worst in him these days.

"Yeah, but you're supposed to be so much better, aren't you?" Songi said. Much to Gala's secret disappointment, the older man didn't seem overly fazed by his words. Usually being reminded of what he'd been like with the Sim Ra-Seru affected him a lot more. Maybe he just didn't care anymore. Maybe he'd gotten over it.

_But he seemed so sincere before. He seemed like he really cared about what he'd done..._

_"It was Cort's idea to rig that floating fortress and kill you guys, not mine. I didn't want to do it, and Jedo... m-my Ra-Seru told me that it'd be easier if I just let go and not care when it happened. And I-I tried, but i-it... y-you don't know how happy I was to see you guys flying away with those Soren after the fortress collapsed. Even Vahn and that barbarian girl."_

"Were you really happy when Vahn, Noa and I didn't die in the Floating Fortress?" Gala asked abruptly.

Songi looked at him, his face clearly showing just how out-of-the-blue this question was.

"Wh-Why are you asking that all of a sudden?" he stammered.

He actually looked flustered now, which _was_ part of what Gala had been aiming for. There was another reason too, though. Namely, because...

"Because it's one of the few things you've said recently that doesn't make me want to hit you."

Gala's blunt manner of talking actually seemed to calm Songi somewhat. At any rate, he wasn't yelling or breaking things, which was secretly what the brunet had been afraid of.

Songi directed his gaze as close to Gala as he could without actually looking at him. There was a definite heat in his cheeks that was probably not the result of anger.

"Oh. Well..." He hesitated. It wasn't often that Songi made a careful effort to choose his words. "As much as I'd like to say, 'No, I wish you idiots _had_ died there,' I... I'm glad you three didn't end up on my body-count. It was high enough as it was."

Gala's chest contracted. Yes, of course, they would've had to have gotten onto this subject eventually, wouldn't they?

"Why do you talk like that?" he asked quietly.

"Like what?"

"Why do you speak of the dead so... casually?" Gala said, digging his shoes subconsciously into the floor. "People _you_-"

"What else am I supposed to do?" Songi interrupted him, irritated. "Using stupid, fancy language isn't going to bring them back."

"No," Gala said, "but it _will_ make me more likely to believe you're sorry."

Songi laughed scornfully.

"Like I care what you believe."

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked away, through the main room.

"Where're you going?" Gala said sharply. Songi sighed and, without stopping, replied:

"I'm going back to sleep. Don't wake me up again unless the house catches on fire or something, or I'll be pissed."

He disappeared into one of three doors leading off from the main room, closing the door loudly behind him. If Zalan's house was anything to go by, this building likely had two small bedrooms and a bathroom, all connected to the main living room and kitchen. Similarly, the windows in the bedrooms were far too small to provide an escape for either of them, which meant Songi wasn't going anywhere unless he passed through the main room again.

Wearily, Gala sat down on the tattered-looking sofa in the living room, trying to ignore the fact that its owners were now dead. It wasn't easy, especially since he'd seen so much death himself these past few months.

Briefly, he wondered if Songi _would_ ever kill himself, even worried for a moment if that had been the reason for his hasty departure, but he soon put that thought to rest. Songi simply wasn't that kind of person. Hell, the way he had writhed and begged at Gala's feet as the Seru-kai tore him apart was proof enough for that. He was the kind of person who would hold onto life as long as humanly possible, even if it meant saying things -

_"You're my friend... Help me!"_

- he didn't really mean.

Gala yawned and settled back on the sofa. He unattached the bulging bag of money from his belt and set it down beside him. It was still only early in the morning, but he was exhausted. Even all the sleep he'd gotten at Zalan's, and his strict training in the monastery, wasn't helping him now.

It wasn't just that he was physically drained; he was emotionally drained too. His journey with Vahn, Noa and their Ra-Seru had really taken a lot out of him. He felt at least ten years older than when he'd first joined them on their quest. And of course, Songi wasn't exactly helping him feel any less pressured.

Gala's eyelids drooped, and as much as he tried to keep them open, telling himself it wasn't proper to sleep when it was still light out, he knew he was fighting a losing battle. Before another ten minutes had passed, he was asleep, his head resting back against the sofa.

ZzZzZzZ

Gala awoke with a start and sat up hastily. He could tell from the altered lighting in the room that he'd been asleep for many hours. It felt like at least mid-afternoon.

Blearily, he got up and walked over to the kitchen-part of the main room, intending to get something to eat. It only took a few minutes of fruitless rummaging however, before he realized there was nothing edible in the house. Well, there were a few odd jars of spices and some stale-looking pieces of bread, but somehow they didn't look very appetizing.

With a sigh, Gala walked back over to the sofa, knowing he was going to have to go to a market and buy some food. As soon as he got a proper look at the sofa though, he realized something was wrong.

The money bag he had placed down beside him was gone, and in its place was a tattered-looking piece of paper with a short message scribbled onto it. In some kind of horrified daze, Gala picked it up and looked it over.

The note was an untidy scrawl, its text bunched together and incredibly difficult to read because of the lack of punctuation. But the handwriting was so familiar, he didn't have to read it to know who had written it.

_'dear idiot I know you'll freak out again if you wake up and I'm not here so I hope you read this. I've gone to get some food because there's nothing here and you were taking forever to wake up. thanks for leaving the money in such an obvious place. -Songi.'_

Gala wasn't even aware that he was crushing the paper in his hand until the loud crunching sound alerted him. Blankly, he looked down at the scrunched note, his heart beating dully against his chest. He didn't know what to think. Indeed, at first he felt nothing.

But as the long seconds dragged by, one by one his emotions began to come back to him. First and foremost, he was angry. He seemed to be getting almost used to that feeling now, because it wasn't as much of a shock to him anymore. It was more like he slipped into it, like a comfortable pair of shoes.

Behind the anger, there was a multitude of other things - weariness, exasperation, frustration, concern. The concern was both for Songi and for anyone he might get annoyed at. He was the type of guy who would try to start a fight with any man he thought looked at him the wrong way, and he would probably win too.

The reason Gala was concerned for Songi himself had mostly to do with what would happen if someone recognized him. Gala didn't know all the things Songi had done while working under Cort, and he didn't really want to know either. But something told him that he, Vahn and Noa weren't the only people besides the residents of Rim Elm and the Biron Monastery who knew Songi's face.

Gala's heart beat harder. He _could_ go and get him, drag him back, but... Well, that would only cause a scene and bring more unwanted attention to them both. Probably the best thing Gala could do was to just wait for him to come back.

Some part of him was trying to say that it wasn't such a big deal, what Songi had done. After all, hadn't Gala himself bemoaned the empty state of the pantry only minutes ago? Songi had been hungry, just like him. He could've easily walked over to his roommate and woken him up, told him to go and get some food, but he hadn't. He'd let him sleep.

_Oh, don't kid yourself,_ Gala snapped at himself. _You know very well he didn't wake you because he thought it'd just be more of an annoyance for him. Much easier to go out and get food himself, even though you've told him countless times not to run off. He didn't wake you because he didn't want to. He's a selfish bastard and only ever helps himself._

As the familiar anger began to consume him, Gala tried to quell it by reminding himself that Songi _had_ left a note for him, which at least saved him the worry of thinking he was trying to escape again. But still, he _should've_ asked. Maybe he'd thought the note would be enough, but it wasn't.

**Oooh, Songi, you've really done it this time, haven't you? :D Damn, these two almost seem like an old married couple in this fic. XD**

**Also, a bit of explanation on the 'Dad'-thing. See, we don't really see characters in LoL calling their parents 'Mom' or 'Dad.' We see 'Father' and 'Mother,' and little kids use 'Mommy' and 'Daddy,' but 'Mom' and 'Dad' never seem to show up (at least, I didn't notice them). With the way Songi refers to his father, I kind of had a weeaboo-ish notion of it being the equivalent of someone calling their father 'Otou-chan' in Japanese, which is nonstandard, overly personal and childish. I dunno. It just felt kind of cute to have Songi call his father something like that, since they were so close in my canon. ^^**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello! I'm back! ^_^ ****In this chapter, Gala and Songi have a bitch-fight. ...Yeah. I admit I had a lot more fun writing this than I should've. :P I like to think I made the two fairly in-character ****for**** this chapter. Gala might be a bit... meaner than usual, but you can't really blame him. Songi is just such a douche. XD**

**Again, special thanks to Barako for proofreading this for me, and for sharing my obsession with this pairing! xD Ugh, I do make some really STUPID homophone-related mistakes. :O Also, thanks for the advice on changing **_**Rikku**_** to **_**Riku**_** to make him sound less like a girl. ^^**

_Chapter 10_

It was only about half an hour later when Songi returned, though to Gala it had felt like several hours. The brunet had realized after the first few minutes of waiting that he wasn't going to be able to just sit passively for who knew how long. So, he'd spent the rest of the time pacing back and forth, visualizing pummelling Songi, staring up at the ceiling, visualizing pummelling Songi, kicking at small specks of dust on the floor, visualizing pummelling Songi, and a number of other things.

Just as he'd been thinking of wrapping his arms around the bastard's neck and squeezing as hard as he could for the umpteenth time, said bastard had returned, pushing open the door and stepping carelessly in. His arms were full of bread, vegetables, meat and small cakes - no fruit, as he'd never really liked it much. He looked rather more cheerful than he had for a while, although he was still walking with a noticeable limp. When he saw Gala standing right in front of him though, his face hardened, and he looked at him defiantly.

"Welcome back," Gala said evenly, folding his arms.

"Damn," Songi muttered.

He didn't look dismayed or terrified, of course, only annoyed. Shrugging his shoulders slightly as if to say, "Well, whatever," Songi stepped forward and attempted to side-step around Gala. Arms still folded, Gala moved to the side, blocking his path.

"_Don't_ walk away from me, Songi."

"Oh, sorry Master Zopu," Songi said in a mock-formal voice.

Gala hated him.

"I guess I wasn't clear enough," he said. "You do _not_ leave this house without permission."

Songi laughed, but Gala saw the way his arms tightened around his purchases. He was getting angry as well.

"That might work for a four year-old, but I'm not gonna let you order me around like that," he said.

Gala closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself not to fly at Songi and start beating him.

"I don't think you understand," he said, opening his eyes again. "If I told anyone in power who you are and what you did, you'd be dead within the month. If I wake up and find you gone again, I'm going to do just that."

Unlike the last time Gala had made this threat, Songi didn't even flinch.

"If you wanted me dead, why would you have saved me?" he said.

"I _don't_ want you dead, but if you leave me no other options-"

"If I die," Songi interrupted, a slight smile on his face, "just think what that'd do to Maya. She'd never forgive you if you killed me. She's already lost her husband, right? Do you think she'd be able to stand it if she lost me too - because of you?"

Gala wasn't even aware of hitting him. One moment, they were standing apart, glaring at each other with equal hatred; the next, Gala had driven his fist into Songi's face as hard as he could.

He knew he'd hit him somewhere around the eye only because, when he came to himself, he saw that all the skin around Songi's right eye was as red as his hair. The eye itself was squeezed shut and watering, not as a result of crying - Songi never would've cried under such circumstances - but simply because the force of the hit had forced the tear ducts open.

The groceries had gone flying everywhere, landing in various places on the floor, and Songi was staring at Gala, his good eye wide with shock and pain.

Unlike the night before though, Gala didn't feel nothing after he'd struck him. Notably, he didn't feel happy or angry, as he'd probably thought he would have. Instead he felt something he was just as used to associating with Songi as those other emotions: shame.

He was supposed to be a calm and collected student of Biron. Why was he reacting with anger and physical violence every time Songi pushed him too far?

"Songi..." he said, slowly lowering his still-raised fist. "Songi, I'm sorr-"

That was as far as he got before Songi punched him square in the jaw. Gala staggered back from the impact until his back hit a wall. Songi, his right hand still raised in a fist, smiled coldly at him. He almost looked happy, even though his injured eye must've been causing him great pain.

"That," he said tonelessly, "was for just now. And this..."

He advanced and hit him again, this time on the side of the face, causing Gala's head to snap back into the wall. He felt the wood and plaster crack behind him.

"...Is for last night," Songi finished, stepping back. "Are you going to let it go any further, Gala? Because if you want a fight, I'd be happy to-"

He was interrupted when Gala drove his fist towards his chest. Songi jumped to the side just in time, and Gala only hit air. Despite this impressive dodge however, Songi's face had grown white again, and it wasn't hard to guess why.

"You're going to open up that wound again," Gala said calmly, as though he hadn't just attempted to attack him.

"So I suppose you'd rather I just stand still and let you beat me?!"

"Since you asked, yes!"

Gala dove at him, using his entire body. This was a rash move Songi clearly hadn't been expecting, and he didn't completely manage to dodge it. Gala's left shoulder caught his right, throwing him off balance. As Songi tried to regain his footing, Gala pulled out of his dive and drove his right knee point-blank into his stomach. He purposely made sure to strike him as close to his wounded torso as possible. He told himself later that he hadn't been trying to cause him unbearable pain, that he just wanted to end the fight, but he knew deep down that that was a lie. He could've just walked away.

Upon impact, Songi let out a low groan of agony and fell to his knees, clutching his stomach with both hands. Gala slowly backed away so he was out of striking-range if the older man decided to retaliate.

But he needn't have bothered; Songi was far beyond retaliating, at least for the time being. He stayed down for well over a minute - probably a record for him, unless one counted the time in the Seru-kai - massaging his bandaged torso and evidently forcing himself not to groan again.

Finally, his hands dropped and he stood up, using the wall to support himself like he had at Zalan's. He looked at Gala, but it was impossible to tell from his face what he was thinking. Although, it wasn't really hard to guess, especially when he next spoke.

"Cheating... bastard..."

Gala returned his gaze steadily. He felt surreal and drained. His face and jaw were throbbing where they'd been hit, not to mention the part of his head that had smashed into the wall from the impact. And there was a dull ringing in his ears that he hadn't felt since...

XxXxXxX

"It's the Mist."

Numbly, Gala surveyed the inside of the monastery, the place that had been his home for over a decade. There was Mist, Mist everywhere, just like that day...

Really, he should've suspected something like this when he'd seen the broken fans outside. Those fans had been the only thing that had kept the monastery protected from the Mist for so long. And now that they were broken...

_Maya... Master Zopu... Songi..._

"Why is the Mist in the monastery? What on earth happened?" Gala was speaking, but he wasn't really hearing himself, nor was he aware of the two kids gasping in dismay somewhere nearby. His brain was still struggling to register the terrible brutality around him.

_Bodies... Bodies everywhere._

His darting eyes caught sight of a young monk lying on his back, one he recognized as Riku. He was a well-built, good-natured man, many years older than Gala and Songi but still only a lower-ranking monk. He and his mother had been from the same village as them, and they had been brought to the monastery for refuge at the same time as Gala, Songi and a few others. Gala remembered him as being one of the several monks who'd gone to East Voz Forest with Songi.

An awful kind of panic seized Gala, and rushed to Riku's side. The man was bleeding heavily from a deep, jagged hole in his chest. His eyes were closed, but he was still breathing. Very faintly.

_Just like before. Just like with..._

"Riku! Wake up! Get ahold of yourself, Riku!"

Slowly, Riku's eyes opened, and he stared up at Gala in a drowsy haze.

"Master... Teacher..."

Gala was afraid to lift Riku's head in case he exacerbated the bleeding, but he couldn't just leave this dying man alone. He settled at last for placing a trembling hand on Riku's shoulder, just as Vahn and Noa came up behind him. He ignored them though, just as he'd been doing for most of the short time he'd known them. Right then he only had eyes for his fellow monk.

"Riku, what... what happened here?"

Gala's voice cracked, the first time it had done so in years, and he swallowed. There was a lump building in his throat, and his lungs didn't seem to want to work properly. Despite their similar pasts, he wasn't really any closer to Riku than he was with any of his other students, maybe because Riku hadn't lost any family in the attack like he and Songi had. But still, he was his student, and he was a fellow student of Biron. How could this have...

"Master Teacher, I..." Riku stopped and coughed out a mouthful of blood.

_Just like before..._

"Master... Songi," Riku said after he'd recovered slightly. "He's..."

"Songi?!" Gala said sharply, feeling cold all over.

_No... No. Please, Biron. Not Songi too..._

"Where is Songi?!" Gala demanded. He realized he was squeezing Riku's shoulder, and he made himself relax his grip. "Riku, did Songi make it back with you? Is he..."

But Riku didn't answer him. He never said another word. A few seconds later, with a low sigh, he went limp on the hard floor of the monastery, his eyes staring unseeingly up at Gala.

_Just like before._

XxXxXxX

Gala kept looking at Songi, the man who'd caused all those deaths in their home. Riku's last words had been wasted talking about this pathetic bastard, and to add insult to injury, Gala had wasted the dying man's last living thoughts on asking about him as well. He hadn't told him he'd been glad to have him as a pupil, or that he'd been so proud of all the progress he'd made, or even that he'd take care of his mother in his place. No. He'd just asked about _Songi_, the reason Riku had died in the first place.

"Songi..." Gala said quietly, his ears still ringing. "Songi, get out of here. I mean... go to your room or... or something. If I have to look at you right now, I... I might do something I end up regretting."

Songi stared at him blankly for a moment, but perhaps he sensed the pure rage in his companion and realized he was only seconds away from being on the receiving end of it. Under normal circumstances, he certainly would've risked it, but he was hardly in any condition to fight back. Not right now.

Stopping only to grab a cake, a piece of steak and some radishes from his scattered supplies, Songi walked out of the room. A few seconds later, Gala heard a door slam.

Breathing hard, he sat down on the hard floor and put his head in his hands. He pushed his palms into his eyes as hard as he could, not stopping until bright, white stars jumped out at him. Then he slowly lowered his hands, closed his eyes and breathed.

_In. Out. In. Out._

It took a long time, and many suppressed thoughts of following Songi into his room and beating him until he was nothing but a writhing and bloody mass at his feet, but eventually Gala managed to calm down enough to think clearly again.

The first thing he did was stand up, gather the rest of the scattered food Songi had bought into his arms and take it into the kitchen-area of the main room. As he looked down at the various meats, vegetables, breads and cakes, he caught himself wondering spontaneously how Songi had spoken to the street vendors he'd undoubtedly purchased the food from. The only person he'd ever heard him be polite to was Master Zopu and their former Master Teacher, but then, no one had ever had a need to shop in the Biron Monastery.

ZzZzZzZ

In the small room that was now his, Songi lay face-up on his bed, munching lazily on a radish while he rested his hands behind his head. The bed wasn't nearly as comfortable as the one at the jeweller's, but it would do. It was practically the only piece of furniture in the room anyway, save for a tiny, decrepit-looking bedside table.

The steak he'd brought lay over the eye Gala had whaled on. He would've liked to eat the steak, but he had no means of cooking it in here, even to the very rare state he loved so much. At least it was providing some relief to his aching eye, although not as much as he would've liked.

Before this, the still-healing wound he'd gotten in the Seru-kai had stopped troubling him for the most part, but Gala's cheap, well-placed knee to the stomach had changed that. Now not only was the resulting bruise there incredibly painful, the wound around his torso had come back with a vengeance too. And his cheek... One couldn't forget about his cheek and the nice mark Gala had left for him there.

Songi scowled up at the ceiling and spat out the half-chewed radish. He'd wolfed down the cake and all the other radishes within the first few minutes of coming in here. He'd really only been messing around with that last one out of boredom.

_Hopefully Gala is hurting too. Should be. I hit him as hard as I could._

Songi smirked a little at the satisfying memory, then winced as his eye throbbed again under the steak.

_What else were you expecting? He was so pissed the other night. I suppose all the stuff you did before that played a part in it too, though._

"Shut up," Songi muttered aloud, bringing one hand up to clamp the steak more tightly against his eye. There was no real emotion in his voice as he spoke, unless weariness counted.

_Gala is an idiot. One minute, he acts like Maya while I cry like a girl next to him._..

Songi shuddered inwardly at the memory. He'd been trying not to think about it over the past week, trying to wipe it from his mind altogether. Of course, he'd just _had_ to act like a whiny moron and bring it up with Gala before, but still...

_The next minute, he acts like I'm some disgusting parasite on the bottom of his shoe. As it happens, I _am_ a disgusting parasite, but I sure as hell aren't on the bottom of his shoe. Gala is just as bad as I am._

_How can you say that?_ some deeper, more rational side of him protested. _Gala saved your life, got rid of the Mist that killed so many people and earned the respect and admiration of everyone in the monastery. What did you do? Betray and attack your own people, join the people who _created_ the Mist in the first place..._

"Shut up!"

Songi sat up, still clutching the steak to his eye. _Now_ there was emotion in his voice. Was there ever.

Blood was pounding in his ears, matching the pounding in his eye beat for beat. Despite that, there seemed to be a deafening silence stirring in the room. It seeped through the walls, hung from the ceiling, rushed up through the floors... It was maddening. Songi felt his ears would burst from it, even more than they'd burst from the relentless pounding of his heartbeat.

He was about two seconds away from jumping off his bed and smashing the nearest thing he could get his hands on, if only to stop the madness, when there was a knock at his door: three brisk knocks, so close in succession they almost sounded like one sound.

Songi knew that knock.

**OMG, a cliff-hander! Yeah, I'm evil. XD It's about time Gala and Songi had a fight. There was no way Songi would let Gala get away with hitting him and generally making him his bitch. ;D But will they ever reconcile? ...Oh hell, it's slash - of course they will. ^^**

**As for Songi's self-loathing (namely calling himself a parasite), I hope that seemed offhanded enough to be somewhat believable. He's not really showing it now and won't for several more chapters, but he really is sorry for all the stuff he's done. It's much easier for him to hate Gala than it is to own up to his mistakes. Stupid Songi. :(**


	11. Chapter 11

**Yay! Chapter 11! Sorry for the slight wait. I've had this chapter written for a while, but I like to stay ahead of the game by at least one chapter at all times in case I get a writer's block or something. In this chapter, Gala and Songi have some adorable banter. Seriously, these two... xD**

_Chapter 1__1_

Without waiting for invitation, Gala pushed open the door to Songi's room and walked in. He hadn't really known what to expect to see, but Songi sitting up on his bed, clutching a bloody steak to his eye and looking somewhere between terrified and furious certainly hadn't been it. And seeing him so clumsily trying to treat his wound only awoke new feelings of guilt.

"Why were you yelling?" Gala asked, walking into the room and up to the bed. His voice could've almost passed for gentle if he hadn't been looking at the red-head in such a skeptical way.

Songi relaxed slightly, though not much. Gala's presence _had_ dispelled that awful, throbbing silence, but still... Gala was Gala.

"I was having a nightmare," he lied curtly. There was no way in hell he'd be telling _Gala_ the truth on this.

Gala almost looked amused.

"So even when you're asleep, you're telling people to shut up."

"How do you think I got so good at it?" Songi said humorlessly. "Shut up, Gala."

"Nice to know I'm 'Gala' again."

"What?"

Songi raised the eyebrow of his good eye - he was pressing the steak too tightly to his injured one to raise anything around there.

"Well, ever since I brought you to Zalan's, you've seemed to have this vendetta against using my name. For the last few days, when I wasn't 'bastard,' 'muscle-bound oaf' or 'idiot,' I was just 'you.'"

"Those words suit you better than 'Gala' or 'Master Teacher' though," Songi said, shrugging. "I'm just trying to be honest here."

Gala, despite himself, almost smiled. How long had it been since they'd bantered like this, without all the malice and bitterness? Sure, there was still some of that now, but nowhere near as much as he was used to.

"You didn't like having to call me 'Master Teacher' either, did you?" Gala asked, still fighting the urge to smile. Songi seemed to be trying to suppress a similar urge, but that might just have been Gala's imagination.

"Hated it."

_'And me?'_ Gala wanted to ask. _'Did you hate me, Songi?'_

But he didn't have the courage to ask that question now, even though the answer should've been pretty obvious. Asking if Songi had disliked addressing him as 'Master Teacher, as he'd been forced to do whenever Master Zopu was around, had been pointless too; Gala had seen the way Songi's jaw had tightened upon forming the word, the way his eyes had burned with utter hatred and jealousy.

Instead, Gala gave a small sigh and reluctantly said what he'd come into the room to say.

"Anyway, as I tried to say earlier before you cut me off, I'm sorry I hit you."

"Which time do you mean?" Songi asked dryly. "The time in my face last night, the time in my eye before, or the time in my stomach when I tried to fight back?"

This time, Gala didn't just feel like smiling; he _actually_ smiled. The muscles around the sides of his mouth felt stiff with misuse. Such a Songi-like thing to say...

"All three, I guess. Anger is no excuse for unprovoked violence, as the rules of Biron say."

"Great. Except that I don't believe in Biron anymore."

Gala's smile faded, but he supposed what Songi had said shouldn't come as a huge shock to him. The guy had never shown any real interest in the philosophy of Biron beyond becoming stronger. Besides, a truly dedicated believer of Biron couldn't have done some of the things he had done.

"Don't look at me like that," Songi said, irritated. "No god would've allowed what happened to our village, would they? I don't see why-"

"Gods don't work like that, Songi," Gala said wearily. "Bad things still happen. It's just... Oh, it doesn't matter. I'm not going to try to change your mind. I know from experience how hard that is."

"You know, you suck at apologizing."

"At least I _do_ apologize," Gala retorted, although there was no real anger in his voice. "And what on earth are you doing with that steak? Your face is covered in blood from it, you know."

"Meh."

"You should put some water on it, or it'll get a lot worse. Wait here a moment."

Without waiting for an answer, as he knew Songi would only argue anyway, Gala left the room. He went outside and around to the tiny backyard the house had, where, as he'd expected, he found a small well. It was full to the brim from a combination of recent heavy rain and misuse, so Gala didn't even need to operate the mechanism that would lower the bucket into the water. Instead he just grabbed it and scooped out half a bucket-full from the top of the well.

The bucket under his left arm, Gala walked back around to the front of the house and went inside. He found a cloth in one of the kitchen's cupboards after some rummaging and took it out. It was probably a bit more coarse than was ideal, but it would have to do. He made his way back to Songi's room.

When he got there, Songi was sitting in exactly the same place he'd left him and, much to Gala's disgust, was still holding the bloody steak to his eye. Knowing Songi, part of the reason for this was likely because he knew it would annoy him.

Gala carefully set the bucket down on the side of the bed and dropped the cloth into Songi's lap. He didn't really want to hand anything directly to him, since that would almost certainly cause their hands to brush up against one another.

Without thanking him, although Gala hadn't expected him to, Songi dropped the steak beside him, picked up the cloth and dipped it carelessly into the bucket. He raised it, soaking, to his right eye, and pressed the cloth gingerly against the bruised skin.

Gala saw Songi's jaw tense as the cold water hit, but nothing else gave away the pain he must've been feeling. His body didn't stiffen, and he didn't flinch or whimper. Again, Gala felt an unpleasant, guilty lurch around his stomach, even though the places where Songi had hit him were quite sore too.

After a painful minute or so, Songi lowered the cloth. It was covered in blood, but most of that had likely come from the steak rather than the injury. Gala knew from experience that black eyes didn't usually bleed.

"If water's supposed to be so good and healthy, it shouldn't sting so damn much," Songi grumbled, glaring at the bucket as though it had insulted him.

"Maybe you could try some vinegar," Gala said. Much to his amazement, Songi actually half-smiled.

"Or lemon juice," he said. "I think I saw some when I went out to get food."

"I meant to ask," Gala said, remembering, "how _did_ you buy all that food?"

Songi gave him a strange look.

"I... took the money and swapped it for food. Pretty complicated, I know, but-"

"No, I mean, how did you speak to the street vendors? Were you polite?"

Songi stopped smiling.

"Oh, so now you're going to lecture me on formality as well?"

_So... _defensive_._

"No," Gala said. "I was just curious because I hardly ever hear you speak politely."

"Oh."

Songi looked slightly less annoyed and shrugged.

"Well, I was civil, if that's what you mean. I didn't curse at anyone."

"That's definitely an accomplishment for you," Gala said, grinning despite himself.

"No, wait," Songi said. The smile returned to his face, and with some foreboding, Gala recognized a familiar, devious air to it. "There was this one guy, but he wasn't selling anything. He was just some smart-ass on the street. He made a comment about how I was walking - you know, because of the bandage and all - so I slugged him."

Gala gaped at him.

"You didn't..."

"Sure I did!"

Songi looked more offended that Gala didn't believe him than he had when he'd thought he was going to be lectured about politeness.

"And then he ran off crying like a girl!" he added. "It was hilarious!"

"You're lucky you weren't arrested," Gala said.

He wanted to say more, namely about how stupid and careless Songi had been, but he didn't want to cause another fight. The last thing he wanted was to draw more attention to them than there already was. Plenty of people in Legaia, especially the ones living around the places that had been most terrorized by the Mist, would probably know Songi by sight, and if any of them were able to connect him to Cort and the other allies of the Mist...

Despite Gala's restraint, Songi still looked irritated. Maybe he'd been half-hoping the younger man would laugh with him, even congratulate him. He'd always loved praise, even from people he didn't particularly care for.

"I have no respect for guys who cry when they get hit. Crying is for girls and kids," Songi said, breaking the short silence that had fallen. He stopped, seemingly remembering, too late, that he himself had cried, and cried hard, not too long ago. Uncomfortable, Gala attempted a small smile and said:

"Well, I'm sure he's very sorry he met you."

"Good," Songi said shortly.

"Just..." Gala hesitated. "Just don't do something like that again, all right? I don't want you..." He trailed off. He'd almost been going to say, "I don't want you getting hurt," but that sounded far too... honest.

"Oh, so I'm allowed to go out again?" Songi asked, rolling his good eye.

"If you tell me before you do, and if you come back when you say you will," Gala said, well aware of how much like Maya he suddenly sounded. Not that Maya had ever let him or Songi go 'out' anywhere, but he still sounded a lot like her.

"And if I don't, you'll rat me out to someone in power, right?" Songi said.

Gala sighed again.

"I'm sorry," he said, and he meant it. "I wish it didn't have to be like this, but..."

"Whatever," Songi interrupted him, dropping his gaze. Seeing his companion so sincere was clearly making him uncomfortable. "Here. Have this back."

He raised a hand and practically threw something at Gala, who only just managed to catch it before it collided with his face. It was the bag of money Songi had taken. Under the circumstances, Gala had almost completely forgotten about it. He supposed it was nice that he was getting it back though. Things would've been a lot more difficult without it.

"Thanks," he said, attaching it to his cloth-belt.

As usual, Songi didn't bother to respond to Gala's civility.

"Are there any other clothes in this house?" he said instead. "These ones are getting a bit... ripe."

'These ones' were a baggy shirt and pants Zalan had kindly given Songi, as his old clothes had been too stained with blood to save. Or, they would've been baggy on Zalan or Pepe. On Songi they fit pretty comfortably.

"And so are yours," he added.

Zalan had lent Gala some clothes too, just as baggy, and thus well-fitting for him, as Songi's. The former Master Teacher had no idea why Zalan had such oversized clothes in his house. Maybe his wife had been a little on the large side, or perhaps Zalan himself had been at some point. Gala was certainly never going to ask him. But Songi was right, as hard as it was to admit. Their clothes were in bad need of a wash.

"I'll go look," Gala said shortly, and walked out of the room again.

ZzZzZzZ

It didn't take very long for Gala to look through the house and realize it was as devoid of clothing as it was food. Undoubtedly because resources had been so limited and precious in the days of the Mist, most of the clothes had been taken to other houses.

When one thought about it, it was pretty lucky that anything remained in the house at all, although it was possible someone had restocked it since Legaia had been liberated. Unfortunately, whoever had done this had failed to provide any suitable clothes. Sighing, Gala made his way back to Songi's room.

ZzZzZzZ

"There's nothing here," he said testily as soon as he'd walked into the room. "I'm going to go and buy some." He tried to look at Songi as he spoke to him, but he hated seeing the reddened, swelling skin around his right eye.

"I guess I should've gotten some while I was out," Songi said. He was still sitting on his bed, but he looked restless. Being cooped up had never been his style, which had made the monastery a pretty miserable place for him to grow up in.

"No, if you'd taken any longer, I really think I might've come after you," Gala said, trying to keep his voice light even though he was being completely serious.

"That's a horrible thought," Songi said. Gala shrugged.

"Well, I'll go now. Songi..." He added the last word in a low, almost-pleading tone. "_Please_ don't leave the house again."

Songi shot him a glance, casually fingering the steak he'd been using on his eye as he did so.

"Fine, fine," he said. "I'll wait here for you like a good boy. But damn it, Gala..."

Gala tensed. He felt oddly comforted when this man used his name; he'd been doing it so rarely as of late.

"I left you a note," Songi said. "I thought it'd at least stop you from throwing a fit this time."

"I know I probably overreacted," Gala said.

"_Probably_," Songi repeated sarcastically.

"But I..." Gala swallowed. "I was worried. If someone had recognized you..."

Songi looked as uncomfortable as Gala felt. He was likely very uneasy that someone he was supposed to be on bad terms with was showing him concern.

"Okay, okay!" he said, averting his gaze. "Just go. But remember, idiot, I'm taller than you, so make sure the pants you get are long enough. There's nothing I hate more than having the skin between my boots and pants exposed."

Gala held back a laugh and left the room, closing the door behind him because he knew Songi preferred it that way. He didn't feel angry anymore. The man he'd just spoken to seemed too much like the old Songi for that. Sarcastic, arrogant and snarky, yes, but not psychotic or evil. Not like he'd been when he'd...

Gala shook his head, dispelling those thoughts. He didn't want to think about that right now. He hadn't felt this carefree for quite a while, and he had no intentions of ruining that. For a long time, he didn't even allow himself to worry if Songi would keep his word about not leaving the house again.

**AW! Jeez, you two, just start kissing already! ;D Actually, that won't be for several, several chapters, but still. We all know they want to, at least in this fic. They just don't know it yet. ^^ Now, will Songi keep his promise and not leave the house this time? Find out on the next episode of Dragon Ball Z- I-I mean, find out next time! :D**


	12. Chapter 12

**Well, here's chapter 12! Kind of a short chapter, at least compared to my other ones, but it was the only break-off point I could find until several pages. I'm quite happy with this chapter, mostly because it involves Songi being utterly adorable. I won't give anything more away here though. ^^**

**As usual, thanks to Barako for proofreading this for me! ^_^**

_Chapter 1__2_

It was dark outside by the time Gala returned to the house. It'd taken a while for him to find a decent tailor's shop, since they were so scarce in Jeremi. The clothes had set him back quite a bit, but it wasn't surprising. Fabric and other such materials were still quite a bit rarer than they needed to be.

Despite trying not to, Gala had worried a great deal about Songi while he'd been out. In addition to everything else, Gala didn't want a new reason to to get into another fight with him when, just before, they'd been getting along so well - by their standards, at least.

Fumbling a little in the darkness, Gala pushed open the door to his new house and stepped in. He was immediately struck by how dim it was inside, especially as he'd been sure he'd seen candles in the main room. Why hadn't Songi lit any of them? Unless...

_"Fine, fine. I'll wait here for you like a good boy."_

Still struggling to find his way in the blackness, Gala found the sofa and dumped the clothes onto it. He would want to have his hands free to brace himself in case he tripped and fell.

As his eyes grew somewhat used to the darkness, Gala managed to find one of the candles in the room, along with a piece of flint. Once he'd succeeded in lighting the candle, he went ahead and lit several more, and then the fireplace for good measure.

The room was now a lot brighter, but still, the flickering shadows the firelight cast on the walls were a little disconcerting. Not to mention the fact that Songi...

A sudden, loud bang from the other side of the house caused Gala to spin around, alert. A figure hidden mostly by shadow emerged from one of the rooms and made its way unsteadily towards him. Gala tensed for a moment, but then relaxed when the brightness of the room illuminated the silhouette enough for him to make it out.

It was Songi, of course. Then again, who else could it have been? Gala smiled weakly, much more relieved than he ever could have admitted. The candles weren't lit, not because Songi had left the house again, but because Songi was a lazy idiot who used his fists much more than his brain. Gala's smile broadened, and he felt almost ashamed for doubting the guy. Almost. It wasn't like he hadn't had reason.

As Songi drew closer though, Gala began to feel a bit uneasy. Songi was staggering a lot, even more than Gala when the room had been so dark. And even more disconcerting, he was coming straight at him, very fast. And he wasn't stopping.

Instinctively, Gala held up his arms in front of him in a protective stance. He had no idea what was happening, but he'd be damned if he was going to take a full-on collision with Songi without even bracing himself.

Luckily, Songi stopped right before he could crash into him, although this did leave the two literally face to face. Up close, Gala could see that the red-head's eyes were bloodshot and unfocused, and his face was quite flushed.

"Songi," Gala started, "what the-"

"It hit me!" Songi yelled back.

Without warning, he stumbled forward, straight into Gala, who only just managed to catch him. In hindsight, this probably hadn't been a very good idea, since if Songi had lost control completely and put all his weight onto him, Gala's years of training under Biron would've been put through a serious test.

Slowly, Songi pulled away from his bewildered companion and stood, swaying a little, on his own two feet.

"I drank the whole bottle," Songi said, his voice unsteady, "and I didn't realize it was so strong, so I kept drinking, and I drank all of it, and it..."

It hit Gala like a painful fist to the gut. He'd seen Songi like this a few times at the monastery in later years, when he'd grown old enough to drink hard liquor. It could not be more obvious what had happened.

"You're drunk," Gala said blankly. He could hardly believe it. Where had he even _found_ alcohol anyway? More likely than anything, he'd downed an entire bottle of cooking sherry that had been tucked away somewhere. Very _strong_ cooking sherry, by the looks of it.

"Great perception there, Gala!" Songi boomed back. He grinned at him, his eyes on a spot slightly to the right of Gala's shoulder.

_Idiot._

"I guess you'd better go and lie down," Gala said, resisting the urge to bang his head into a nearby wall. Admittedly, this wasn't as bad as coming home and finding Songi gone again, not by a long-shot, but it was still incredibly inconvenient and annoying.

"I'm not tired!" Songi protested. "I feel like talking!"

"You always do when you're drunk," Gala said. _Except to me, of course. In those last few years, not even being utterly drunk could make you forget how much you hated me._ "Getting you to shut up's the problem. Then again, it's hard getting you to shut up when you're sober too."

At this, Songi burst out laughing. There was no sarcasm in the laugh, as there would've been without the alcohol.

"You're actually pretty funny, Gala!" he said when he'd recovered. "I'm surprised I didn't notice it before! Have you ever thought about doing stand-up comedy?"

_Oh, if only you knew..._

Gala grimaced. "You have no idea..."

"What?!" Songi said. He was still feeling it necessary to keep his voice loud enough to wake the dead.

"Keep it down," Gala said. "You'll wake up our neighbors."

"To hell with them!"

_Here we go..._

"Yes," Gala said wearily. It was suddenly becoming a very big chore to stay standing. "To hell with our neighbors, to hell with the world, to hell with anyone who isn't you. Right?"

Songi glared at him, seemingly making an honest effort to focus his eyes directly on him.

"You wanna fight?!" he said, raising an unsteady fist. "I'll give you a fight if you want one, Gala! Just say the word, and I'll-"

Gala grunted impatiently.

"No, moron. I don't want to fight you. We did enough of that earlier. I just want you to go and lie down before you hurt yourself."

Slowly, Songi lowered his fist. His face was going from flushed to extremely pale alarmingly quickly. Gala had a horrible feeling he knew why.

"Songi," he said, carefully. "You need to sit down, or have some water, or... something. Your face is completely white."

Songi shook his head adamantly, causing his face to go, if possible, even paler.

"I'm not... not thirsty. I just downed a whole bottle of... something. Idiot."

"Alcohol _dehydrates_ you, you stupid ignoramus," Gala snapped.

"Hey, don't call me... thing!" Songi said.

Without warning, he stumbled and grabbed the nearest wall to steady himself. For Songi, walls seemed to be more about keeping his balance than holding a roof over him. Then, a second later, he threw up, all over the floor. Even though he'd been expecting it, Gala still recoiled, although that might just have been because Songi vomiting was one of the least pleasant sounds - and sights - one could ever suffer through.

The best Gala could say for him was that he didn't get any sick on either of them. Maybe he _would've_ if he'd gotten the chance, since once he was done bringing up everything he'd eaten over the past few hours, he lurched forward, face-first. He likely would have fallen right into his own vomit, had Gala not managed to catch him again at the last second.

"Nice... catch, Gala," Songi said when he'd gotten his breath back.

His voice was barely above a slurred whisper, and rather than pulling away from Gala, he was sagging weakly against him. He was seemingly too drunk or too tired to notice that he was being completely dependent on someone he was supposed to hate so much.

Gala didn't trust himself to let go of him, even though Songi's weight was almost forcing him to his knees.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

Knowing he didn't really have any other options, Gala half-led, half-supported Songi to his room. It wasn't as bad as when he'd been practically dying on the way to Zalan's, but still, Songi didn't make much of an effort to help.

When they finally reached the bedroom, Gala all but dumped the older man onto his bed. He probably should've been more gentle, but at this point, he lacked the patience. He just wanted to have something to eat, change his clothes, then sleep for at least a week.

Roughly, he spread the bed's blanket over Songi's body. The last thing he needed was the idiot catching a cold. Then, letting out his breath in another long sigh, Gala turned and began walking out of the room.

"Why were you even drinking in the first place, you idiot..."

He'd been speaking to himself, as he'd thought Songi was beyond hearing him, so he was amazed when he actually got an answer.

"I wanted... to forget."

Gala stopped short and turned back to him. Songi was huddled under the blanket, his back to him. Even from the little of him that was visible, it was striking to Gala just how helpless he looked when he was lying down.

"What? What did you want to forget?" Gala asked, surprised at how gentle his voice had become.

Songi was starting to doze off. Gala could tell by the way his breath slowed and his body went even more limp than it already had been. Nevertheless, he spoke, his voice drifting along with his consciousness.

"Everything... Everything I did, my dad, Juggernaut, Cort, you..."

With a low sigh, he turned over to his other side, facing Gala, his eyes closed and his breathing heavy. The moment he saw him, all Gala's irritation, anger and frustration seeped right out of him, leaving only fatigue and a desire to be alone.

It seemed Songi was much more open about things when he was under the influence of alcohol. Or Jigul grass. But these were things Gala thought he would've been better off not knowing.

Because, when he heard things like this, clear confessions of the guilt and regret Songi felt for the things he'd done, it was so much harder to feel nothing for him, and Gala _wanted_ to feel nothing for him. If that wasn't possible, he at least wanted to hate him, the way Songi had hated him for so long and probably still did. Hatred hurt much less than... than _this_.

But he'd never been able to hate him, even when he'd attacked the Biron Monastery or Rim Elm. He'd wanted to _save_ him, to get him back to the Songi he'd known and loved.

_Well, you managed to save him,_ a musing, inner voice pointed out. _But is he the way you remember, back when you were friends? Do you think he ever will be again? If not, was it really worth saving him?_

_Yes,_ Gala answered himself stubbornly._ I _am_ glad I saved him. Even if he stays like this... even if he gets drunk every other night and I have to spend the rest of my life babysitting him... I'm glad he's alive._

Slowly, very carefully, Gala reached out a hand and brushed it gently to Songi's left cheek, to the place where he'd struck him the night before. The skin was hot and sweaty under his fingers, and the bruise felt tender, almost like overcooked meat.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Gala pulled his hand quickly away, terrified that the contact might awaken him.

_Why_, in the name of Biron, had he just done that? What could have possibly possessed him to...

Songi mumbled something indistinguishable and pulled the blanket up higher, hiding most of his face from Gala. He didn't seem to be awake, but nevertheless, Gala wasted no time in leaving the room and closing the door swiftly behind him.

_I'm tired,_ he thought to himself as he staggered down to his own bedroom. _And I felt sorry for him. That's why I did it. I didn't realize what I was doing, and... and it's not like it's a big deal to begin with. Why'm I even... It wasn't like I did anything... weird. I just..._

Gala's thoughts continued to run in a hazy mess, even after he reached his room and collapsed, fully clothed, onto his bed. They probably would've gone on much longer, even into his dreams, if he hadn't been so tired that he literally fell asleep within minutes and slept dreamlessly for ten hours straight. The last conscious thought he remembered having was:

_Damn you, Songi..._

He didn't wash up. He didn't change his clothes. He didn't even remember to clean up the sick.

**Hehe! I must admit, I really, REALLY enjoyed writing Songi drunk. It's one of the few times he'll completely let down his guard and speak openly about his regrets (even though he won't remember doing so the next day). And yeah, things got a little shippy in this chapter, didn't they? Finally! But still no kissing, and won't be for a while. Sigh... XD**


	13. Chapter 13

**Well! It's certainly been a while, hasn't it? I've actually had this chapter written for a while, but I couldn't seem to find the motivation to proofread and post it. I'm still very invested in this fic and plan to finish it though, so don't worry. Nothing too exciting happens in this chapter, although Gala does finally show some thoughts and concern for the other people in his life. About time, Gala. :(**

**Thanks to Barako for BETA'ing, once again! ^_^ Also, please R&R! I miss those! XD**

_Chapter 1__3_

Gala awoke late in the morning the next day. The moment he managed to force his lids open, he realized just how heavily they'd been shut. His head ached too, almost like _he'd_ been the one who'd downed an entire bottle of alcohol the previous night.

Groaning, he forced himself up from the bed, making a mental note as he did so never to sleep in unchanged, outdoor clothing again. _Or_ to go an entire day without eating. He hadn't really noticed how hungry he'd been when he'd gone out shopping for clothes, or when he'd returned home. Granted he'd had a lot on his mind then, but still. Didn't he now?

_Songi..._

Gala wondered if he was up yet. He wasn't the heaviest sleeper, nor did he usually sleep in for too long after drinking. All the more annoying...

Without really realizing it, Gala was making a deadline for the house's small bathroom. He hadn't had anything to drink the previous day besides a glass of water, but it was a known fact that one usually had a full bladder right after waking up, no matter what the circumstances.

Gala didn't know what he'd been expecting as far as Songi went, but he certainly hadn't been expecting to practically walk right into him in the bathroom doorway, much less see him soaking wet, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

Gala often forgot just how long Songi's hair was. When it wasn't sticking up, it came a little past his shoulders in length. Of course, most of the time, he kept it spiked up with candle wax, oil or whatever else he could find. Gala's hair was much shorter, spiked up because of the style it was cut rather than by any artificial means. The ways of Biron didn't usually encourage students to go about with unshaved heads, but Master Zopu was somewhat lax on the matter. When the two orphans had first been brought to the monastery, Zopu had allowed them to thin and raise their hair instead of cutting most of it off. Maybe he'd understood that forcing them to do so would've been asking them to leave a good deal of their identities behind.

Gala didn't really like seeing Songi's hair un-spiked, mostly because it reminded him of how he'd looked when they'd first met, back on that... terrible day. Besides, he was so accustomed to seeing him with hair that looked like it'd never seen a comb in its life, it was kind of weird to see him any other way.

Songi, upon almost crashing into Gala, stepped back, grunting slightly in annoyance. His eyes had small, faint bags under them, but other than that he looked fairly normal. He was certainly well enough to think it was acceptable to walk out of a bath without properly drying himself, tracking water all over the house. Gala didn't like to point this out though, mostly because he was turning enough into Maya as it was.

Notably, the skin around Songi's eye was still red and sore-looking, as was the mark on his cheek. His right arm, which Gala hadn't seen uncovered for several days, was bruised almost from wrist-to-elbow, showing where the Sim Ra-Seru had cut and pressed into his flesh. Gala hadn't paid much attention to it before, probably because Songi had had so many other wounds to worry about, but the sight was truly ghastly. And that had been among some of the _least_ damage the cursed thing had done.

On a brighter note, most of the wounds Songi had received in their fight in the Seru-kai were faded or mostly so - except, of course, the big one around his torso. Zalan had done a good job patching it up, but even so, the stitches stuck out alarmingly against Songi's pale skin. The gash under them was so big and deep, it would be a miracle if it ever faded completely.

Gala started. Where had the bandages gone?

"You should be more careful next time, idiot," Songi said moodily, ignoring Gala's stare. "You're not the only one who needs this room, you know. But hey, I was gonna ask, where're those clothes you bought yesterday? I need some."

"Wh-Why're you..." Gala stammered. "Songi, did you have a bath?!"

He already knew the answer. Why else would Songi be soaking wet? But his mind didn't seem interested in forming intelligent questions right then. It didn't help that it was still quite thick with sleep.

"No," Songi said, the tone of his voice indicating just how stupid Gala's question was. "I just thought I'd get undressed for the hell of it."

"What happened to the bandages?" Gala asked.

He had to make a real effort not to start shouting. The wound around Songi's torso was definitely healing well, but it still wasn't a pleasant sight. The stitches Zalan had made around the gash to hold the skin in place looked alarmingly fragile. One got the impression by looking at them that even slightly flexing the muscles around the stitches would cause several to snap. They were undoubtedly a lot stronger than they looked, or else they would've broken long ago, but looking at them made Gala's stomach turn.

"Relax," Songi said. "I took the bandages off before I got into the water. I don't really need them anymore anyway. The skin's healing just fine."

This was true enough, and it probably was better not to wear fabric while taking a bath. But the sight of the stitches was still unnerving. Not that Gala would ever tell Songi this. Knowing him, he'd walk around without a shirt all day if he knew how much it would bother the brunet.

"I wish you wouldn't do things like that," Gala settled for saying at last, forcing his eyes back up to Songi's face. Seeing his long, soaking hair wasn't much better, but it was at least nicer than the alternative.

"What else was I supposed to do?" Songi said defensively. "If I'd gone any longer without a bath, I probably would've been eaten alive by bugs or something."

"You could've just used the washing basin like we did at Zalan's. There was no reason to-"

"Okay, fine," Songi interrupted. "You're not gonna help me find the clothes. I'll get them myself."

Gala sighed. He didn't know if this was an unsubtle attempt to get him to fetch Songi's clothes for him, or just Songi being his usual, sulky self. Whatever the case, Gala certainly didn't want him walking all over the house when he was still dripping.

"No," Gala said, already turning away. "I'll get some. Hold on."

He walked over to the sofa he'd dumped the clothes on the previous night, scooped up a blue shirt, black vest and brown pants and undergarments, and returned to the bathroom-area. He held out the bundle of clothing to Songi, resisting the urge to throw it at him.

"Hopefully they'll fit you. I know we've both grown a bit since... everything," Gala said.

Songi took the clothes in both his water-soaked hands, purposely grabbing them by the edges closest to him and farthest away from his companion. It seemed he was as reluctant to make direct physical contact as Gala.

"They should work," he said, after a quick, careless glance at the clothing. Gala knew this was as close to a word of thanks as he was going to get.

Though he was still by no means completely dry, Songi pulled on the shirt and vest without hesitation. Despite his lingering tiredness, Gala almost got to urge to laugh. He had forgotten just how lazy this guy could be. This urge melted away immediately after though, as Songi began unceremoniously unwrapping the towel from around his waist.

Before he could see anything else, Gala hastily turned away and stared at the opposite wall, inwardly cursing himself for not moving further away. Behind him, he heard Songi give a low chuckle of amusement.

"You're such a prude, Gala. Really, it's nothing you've never seen before."

"Sh-Shut up."

Gala was blushing hard. He'd never liked seeing other people, even his fellow monks, naked. Even though, as Songi pointed out, it wasn't a big deal. Back at the monastery, some of the less mature monks, Songi included, had often joked about how difficult it would be for Gala to find a wife if the Mist ever cleared, considering how reserved he was.

And they were probably right. Gala recalled a particularly uncomfortable incident which had occurred about three days after he had first joined Vahn and Noa, back when they'd all been virtual strangers. It had been a rather hot, muggy day, and they'd just found a small pond in the middle of a grove. Noa, after letting out a cry of delight, had stripped down to her underwear, paying no attention to her companions' gasps of shock, before jumping head-first into the water.

"Come on in, you guys!" she'd trilled, surfacing and splashing around like a drowning bird. "The water's great!"

The memory still haunted Gala somewhat, and the heated argument that had followed afterwards hadn't been very pleasant either. He'd never been called 'mean' so much in one conversation before.

After a few moments, Songi walked out in front of Gala, thankfully fully clothed. The younger man was grateful not to have to look at his damaged torso anymore - or any of the bare skin around there, for that matter - but he wished Songi would do something about his hair.

"They fit good enough," Songi said. Most other people probably would've stuck a 'thank you' in there somewhere. Gala scowled.

"_Well_ enough," he corrected him, again reminding himself forcefully of Maya. Surprisingly, Songi ignored this. Usually having his grammar picked at was a sure-fire way to get him worked up.

"And you know I hate the color blue, so thanks," he said instead, flicking disdainfully at the shirt's fabric.

"Any time. Are you hung over?"

Songi looked annoyed, most likely because he'd wanted the previous night forgotten. But Gala wasn't going to make it that easy for him.

"I don't get hangovers, remember?" Songi said.

"Yeah, it's a shame," Gala said. "You might've been less tempted to get drunk last night if you did."

"Oh, shut up. I told you I didn't mean for it to happen. I just wanted to have a couple of drinks to," - _'I wanted... to forget.'_ - "you know," - _'Everything... Everything I did, my dad, Juggernaut, Cort, you...'_ - "help me relax."

Gala hesitated. Songi likely didn't remember what he'd said right before he'd passed out, any more than he remembered what he'd said while under the influence of the Jigul grass. And it would definitely be better if it stayed that way.

"Well, you were certainly relaxed," Gala said at last. "Anyway, get out of here. I need to..."

His cheeks reddened again, and he gestured vaguely at the bathroom. It would've been nice if it was separated from the main room by a door, or even a curtain, like the ones in the monastery, but it wasn't. Songi grinned.

"Prude," he said again, but obediently walked away, presumably towards the kitchen-area.

Gala went into the small alcove and relieved himself, splashing his hands into the washing tub afterwards. Songi, in his typical fashion, hadn't bothered to fill his bath very much. At the most, it was only three or four bucket-fulls high, and probably only one of those had been heated; the water was lukewarm at best.

Gala briefly considered getting into the tub himself and washing up properly, but the idea of doing that in a doorless room with Songi so close by wasn't very appealing. Instead, he just pulled off his upper clothing, splashed his face and chest briefly with water, and went back into the living room. He picked out a new shirt from the pile on the sofa and threw it on, then walked over to the kitchened part of the house, where, sure enough, he found Songi.

The man was leaning against a wall, inattentively watching over a pan of steak on the cooking fire. Predictably, he was only making enough for one, even though it wouldn't have been much trouble to put on an extra one for his companion. Gala was used to this.

Songi didn't look up straight away, although he must've heard Gala coming. He was using one hand to re-spike his hair with cooking oil and the other to eat a honey cake. Gala held back a sigh with difficulty. Honestly, if Songi hadn't been raised on such a strict exercise and workout regime for the last ten years, most of his muscle almost certainly would've been fat.

Gala was at least relieved that Songi was attending to his hair. When he thought about it, he supposed he was lucky Songi still did it. After all, there wasn't really a need for it now, and hadn't been since he'd abandoned the monastery. Gala guessed that the routine was likely such a big part of Songi's style now, it was just habit.

Songi was silent for a minute or two as he continued rubbing the oil over his head. Fixing his hair was one of the few things he seemed to put genuine concentration and attention into. Although, it was strange that he even bothered to wash his hair in the first place, considering he just soaked it with chemicals straight afterwards. When he was finally done, Songi looked up at Gala, and his mouth curved into a mocking smile. Gala wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve this and felt defensive.

"If you're going to get drunk again, it'd be nice if you at least passed out in your own room. You're heavy," he said. Was he trying to invoke some sort of reaction, or just release some of his frustration? Either way, he knew it wasn't very mature or advisable. Hadn't he been trying to _prevent_ fights with this person?

"Whatever," Songi said, still smirking.

"And don't even get me started on..." Gala began, then broke off. He'd been going to bring up the mess Songi had made on the floor last night, but then he remembered he hadn't even cleaned it up. He'd forgotten all about it.

He looked over to the area near the sofa, where he was fairly sure Songi had delivered. There was nothing there. Gala felt uneasy and wondered if he'd remembered the place wrong. Admittedly, he _had_ been pretty occupied at the time, but it certainly wasn't going to be very fun to go searching for it.

"Yeah, yeah," he heard Songi say. Gala turned back to him and saw he was no longer smiling. "I got rid of it already, so save me your bitching."

Gala was stunned. It was very unlike Songi to do any kind of chore unless he was pretty much forced into it. It had always been like that at the monastery. It could've just been that the smell of the vomit had been bothering him, but Gala had the feeling Songi had been more bothered by the idea that he might lecture him. Whatever the case, Gala supposed the older man had earned the right not to have the subject brought up.

"Where'd you put it?" Gala asked after a moment.

"Outside. I threw it over some plants."

"Lucky plants."

"Hey," Songi said suddenly, his eyes on his cooking steak, "can I go out today?"

Gala stiffened.

"Where?" he said sharply.

"What are you, Maya?" Songi said, then stopped. He seemed to realize immediately that he shouldn't have said this. "Just out," he said, before Gala could say anything. "I don't like being inside if I can help it. You know that. And no, I _won't_ run away. I know you were serious yesterday."

Gala was reluctant. The idea of Songi out on the streets again, even if he knew where he was, was very discomforting. On the other hand, he couldn't in good conscience keep Songi prisoner for the rest of his life, especially when the two of them had spent most of their teenager years cooped up inside all the time.

"You won't get into any more fights?" Gala asked. "I don't want you drawing attention to yourself, Songi."

"You're no fun."

"Songi!" Gala almost shouted. Songi looked exasperated.

"I'm joking! Geez, get a sense of humor already."

Gala felt himself relenting, as much as he didn't want to. If he refused Songi's request - because, to his credit, it _had_ at least been a request - he knew this day would not be very fun. Besides, they could definitely both use some time away from each other.

"Be back before dark, all right?" Gala said. "And don't leave town."

"Fine, whatever," Songi said. The tone of his voice made it sound like Gala had just told him to do something very unreasonable.

Quickly, as though worried the brunet would change his mind, Songi scooped up the steak in a small, ragged piece of cloth, strode past Gala without looking at him, and walked towards the front door. Stopping only to step into his boots, Songi pulled open the door and disappeared into the late morning sunlight. The door slammed behind him, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.

Wearily, Gala extinguished the cooking fire that Songi had abandoned and closed his eyes. Now that he was actually awake, and alone, he had the opportunity to think. Before, when he'd been staying with Zalan and Pepe, he'd been either too tired, too busy worrying about Songi, or too busy doing everything he could to help out his hosts to think.

Now that he was actually free to let his mind wander properly, the first thing Gala thought about was Vahn and Noa. He hadn't even said a proper goodbye to Vahn, even though he didn't know how long it would be before he could see him again. And Noa... She must've been having a tough time. Sure, she had Cara and Grantes to help her, but Gala knew, even without any experience on the matter, that taking care of a newborn baby was no picnic. And Noa was still only a child herself. Her travels with Vahn, Gala and their Ra-Seru had taught her a lot, but even so, she was still quite naive for a girl her age. Her naivety and innocence was something Gala and Vahn had learned to like, but Noa could be very frustrating for people who didn't know her as well, and who didn't take the time to know her.

Gala knew he'd told Noa to let him know if she needed anything, but he wondered deep down if she would follow up on this. If she thought it would bother him, she'd likely prefer to keep her problems away from him. For a moment, Gala considered taking a Door of Wind to Buma and going to visit her. Songi was out, after all, so what would be the harm? He very nearly followed up on this, but at the last minute, he decided against it. If he went to visit Noa now, he'd probably just worry her more. At the very least, he should wait until things between him and Songi had settled down a little. What he did do though, was take out a pencil and roll of parchment he'd bought while out the previous day, tear it in half and scrawl a quick message to Maya and Zopu on each piece.

In truth, he was disgusted with himself for not doing this sooner, especially when he thought of how worried Maya had been about Songi. He hadn't forgotten about her or Zopu, not even when his mind had been mostly occupied with his new roommate. The real reason he hadn't written to either of them yet was because he'd had no idea what to say. He still didn't, but he knew avoiding the task any longer would be unfair to both of them. They had as much right to know what was going on as he did.

He doubted anyone else would care much what Songi was up to. The guy had never been particularly good at making or keeping friends. There _had_ been a small group of monks at the monastery he'd gotten along decently with, particularly after he and Gala had grown apart. These, appropriately enough, had been among the more immature, lower-ranking warriors there. Songi naturally liked being around anyone childish enough to appreciate his humor; especially if they were much weaker than him and so had little chance of surpassing him, as Gala had. The only monk Songi hadn't hated that Gala really liked had been Riku, but he had been one of the first victims of Songi's treachery.

As Gala - and Songi - well knew, many people in the monastery had lost friends and family in the attack, and the chances that any of them would want to see Songi alive after this, much less resume a friendship with him, were virtually non-existent. They might even resent Gala for continuing to associate with him.

Sighing, Gala touched his pencil to the first piece of parchment and began to write.

**Dear Maya,**

**I'm sorry I didn't write to you earlier, but a lot has been going on. Don't worry - Songi is fine. He was pretty badly wounded, but Zalan was able to fix him. I can't be absolutely sure, but I think that Sim-Seru's influence has completely disappeared. Songi is just about himself again. We're living together in Jeremi for now, and I'm trying to get along with him.**

Gala paused, his pencil hovering over the paper. For a moment, he'd almost been about to tell Maya about all the anxiety Songi was causing him, and how it worried him that he couldn't seem to stop thinking about him, even for a second. But he stopped himself at the last minute. Maya didn't need to be troubled with such things.

**I'll write to you again in a few days and let you know how things are going. Please, don't worry about us. I look forward to seeing you again soon.**

**Sincerely, Gala**

It would've been nice if he could've said he _and_ Songi wanted to see Maya again, but that would've been a flat-out lie right then. Of course, if Songi didn't change his mind about that soon, Gala would have to step in himself somehow. Maya didn't want to cast him away any more than Gala did, so not convincing Songi to see her again sometime would really hurt her. Gala wasn't going to allow that. Maya had been hurt enough as it was.

His message to Zopu was surprisingly easier to write than his one to Maya. Usually he'd found Maya much easier to talk to than his teacher. Maybe it was easier now because Gala saw no reason to soften his words to protect Zopu's feelings. He knew this kind of thing wouldn't upset him. In all the time he'd known him, Gala had only ever seen the old man cry once, and that had been when he'd related the tale about Songi attacking the monastery.

**Dear Master Zopu,**

**I'm sorry I didn't write to you earlier, but a lot has been going on. I'm sure Maya or Tetsu wrote to you already, but we managed to stop Cort and his followers, and Songi seems to be himself again. I can't be completely sure, but from what I can tell, he's very sorry about everything he did. I know that doesn't make it all right, and I'll never forgive him for what he did any more than you will. He did a very stupid thing, and it got a lot of people killed. But I'm not sure what we can do about that. I don't want him to be imprisoned or executed, but I don't want to let him go until I'm absolutely sure the influence of the Sim-Seru is gone. I've learned that I can't be too careful about things like this. I suppose when I'm sure he's fine, I'll just let him go, and none of us will probably ever see him again.**

Gala stopped writing again, this time because of a sudden, painful lurch around his chest. The lurch had appeared without warning, and he knew what had caused it.

_"...But you were... you were my best friend. I don't want to cut you out of my life."_

Gala's own words, spoken under that arch to Songi not that long ago. And he'd meant them too. Hadn't the whole reason he'd agreed to travel with Vahn and Noa in the first place, to partner up with a Ra-Seru of his own, been to save Songi?

_Ozma..._

Gala half-wished he could've written a letter to him as well. Not that he would ever need to, since the two had always been together, able to communicate to each other with their minds alone. But he wasn't ever going to see Ozma again. He'd accepted that fact almost immediately after it had happened, in sharp contrast to Vahn and Noa - especially Noa.

After what had happened to his parents, Gala never would've believed he would have been capable of becoming friends with any Seru, even a Ra-Seru. But he _had_, he was sure of it. Maybe he'd never become as close to the creature as the two other heroes had to theirs, but Gala had still cared for him. Even now, there were times when he caught himself about to try to talk to Ozma, who had once been such a big part of him. Gala felt a dull pain in his stomach whenever he remembered the Ra-Seru - yet another pain he could attribute directly to Songi, since it was because of him that there were no more Seru now - but it wasn't an unbearable pain, like the pain he'd felt when his parents had died, or when Songi had...

Catching himself before he could let his thoughts wander too much, Gala hurriedly finished off his letter to Master Zopu in the same way he had Maya's, then folded up both pieces of the torn parchment and walked with them out of the house.

He'd noticed a post office in the town on his trip out yesterday, which he headed straight for. The building was small, unorganized and hadn't been running for that long. It hadn't been there when Vahn, Noa and Gala had first come to the town. There hadn't been much use for messages carried by man, horse or carrier pigeon in the days of the Mist; the vile fog had ensured that no living creature would get far once they left the safety of a village.

Many people were already awake and about in the late morning. Most noticed and waved enthusiastically at Gala as they passed, and Gala did his best to return their greetings with equal enthusiasm. He'd met with exactly the same kinds of things yesterday, and even in the days before all of Legaia had been saved from the Mist, he and his companions had often been treated as heroes.

The worst thing that could happen, Gala realized, as he waved good-naturedly back at a group of kids who were practically fainting with excitement at the sight of him, was Songi somehow seeing this. Aside from creating only more hostility between them, Gala knew the red-head's resulting taunts and jealous insults would make him angry as well.

Before long, Gala reached the post office. He was greeted there, as with most other places he went, with admiration and near-worship. At first the workers insisted that the delivery of any letters, regardless of how many or how far, be entirely at their expense. Again, Gala was used to this. He'd met with the same problem almost everywhere he'd gone yesterday. As with then, he argued back and eventually succeeded in convincing the laborers to take his money. He had a lot of it, after all.

As he'd expected, the most costly of the three modes of delivery was the one that used the carrier pigeons. They were scarce and difficult to train, so it was no wonder. But Gala happily paid full price, especially since the letters were going to the same place and so only required one pigeon. He probably should've written to Vahn and Noa as well, but he was even less sure of what he should write to them than he had been with Maya and Zopu. He resolved instead to visit them in a few days, if Songi stayed trustworthy in that time. Although, what he would say to them about his new roommate when he saw them, he couldn't even begin to imagine.

This done, he returned home. Or, it was hard to think of his and Songi's new house as a 'home,' but he supposed that was what it was now. For how long, he didn't know. For how long he _wanted_ it to be, he had even less idea. Even though he'd just woken up and the walk from and to the house hadn't been long, Gala felt utterly drained the moment he walked through the front door. If this kept up, he'd feel like he was fifty years old by the time he reached twenty-five.

**Tee-hee. I will admit that I had a lot of fun with the Gala and Songi interactions, but when don't I? ;D I know this chapter was fairly uneventful, but I guess you have to have some parts where nothing much happens. It helps with the pacing, I think. ^^ I actually have quite a few chapters in reserve, because I've still been writing. I've just been really lazy about proofreading and posting, as I said. So, the next few chapters, at least, should come fast and soon. :)**


End file.
